Rose Be the TentacleTherapist!
by Angryventilationducts
Summary: Rose faces a difficult challenge, whether or not to provide treatment for the "shyest Juggalo ever," as well as come to terms with her own demons.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: Thanks for all of the views! I've had a wonderful time writing the story! Stay tuned for updates!

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Rose: Be the Tentacle Therapist!

It's been another long day researching in the library of the meteor, with little reward and greater frustration. It seems more questions than answers tend to be discovered in my efforts to better direct our future actions. By counting days on a calendar Dave set up via his alchemizer, that it's been approximately two years, or a sweep, as the trolls call it. Sighing, I close the latest tome before me and eye up Kanaya, who looks equally as tired. Even her luminescence seems to be a bit dimmer than usual, though her outfits are always in good taste and bright colors. To be honest I'm glad she chose to assist me in the search for knowledge. The current situation seems less bleak with her around. I place the book back on a shelf and turn to her, "I believe our futile searches for the day are at an end, Kan. Would you like to accompany me to the kitchen?" She looks up, smiling wearily, "Perhaps tea before bed would help us rest. Remind me to speak to Karkat before I return to my respite block." I raise an eyebrow wryly, "Feel the need for shouty capitalized letters, then?" Kanaya blushes a lovely shade of jade, " No-no, I just wish to inform him of our progress, it's been a few weeks since I have updated him." Yes. Because getting yelled at before bed is so relaxing. I just smirk and shake my head. "I hope he isn't praying for miracles," The smart ass remark is out of my mouth before I realize, too late, that miracles are still a sore subject, "Oh, gog, sorry Kan!" Her smile is as weak as water, "There is no need for apology, Rose, it is just sarcasm." I still berate myself mentally as we walk down the hallway.

The meteor is eerily quiet at this hour, though granted there is little way to distinguish "hours" in the vast void of space. It seems a majority of our compatriots have returned to their respective rooms for the night. The metal of the floors creak beneath my feet as we make our way down the hall, making us both jump. We look at each other and laugh, though our fears are quite valid. Kanaya had filled me in on the gruesome events that occurred prior to their arrival to the green sun during the first few days we agreed to work together. A member of their party, whom I've yet to meet, had a major breakdown, no thanks to Dave's introduction of the ICP, which seemed to be a direct conflict, or considered blasphemy to, his clown cultist religion. The Bard of Rage hasn't been seen in two years, though in the dead of night one might hear a honk, or husky chuckle. Breakdowns are all fine and good, I suppose, unless they turn you into a raging psychopath with a split personality. Not that I have much room to speak after my Grimdark episode, but at least most of that destructive energy was put to good use. For decent enough purpose... I shake myself out of the memories of the loss of my mother as Kanaya looks at me quizzically. Shrugging, I occupy my mind with new thoughts, its been awhile since I've psychoanalyzed anyone, but maybe...

A honk squeals in the distance as we turn hurriedly into the nutrition block, I mean kitchen, gog damn it! Terezi and Strider are sitting at the table laughing hysterically over a large brownish glob in the center of the table. Its undulating mass reminds me of the horrorterrors I once worked for before going grimdark. The acrid stench burns itself into my nostrils, as it busily sizzles and pops its way through the silver serving platter it sits upon. "Strider, what in gog's name is that awful mess?" He wheezes with laughter, choking out, "We've...been...hahaha...alchemizing Alternian and Earth food..." he pants with a few more outbursts of laughter before continuing, "This is a steak with grub sauce." Kanaya puts on a disapproving face, interjecting fussily, "Make sure you clean it up before it burns a hole in the table!" Terezi screeches harder with laughter, "We know! It already ate through the plate!"

As if in response to her speech, the unholy concoction promptly bursts into flames, which only makes the two buffoons cackle louder. None of us see Karkat enter the room, "WHAT THE FUCKALL IS THIS MASTERFUL FUCKUP OF SHITHIVE FLAMING FAILURE FUCKERY?" We all start and turn, guiltily, to the doorway where Karkat stands, mouth agog with a mixture of shock and rage on his face. Strider is the first to answer, " Chill out, man, I've got this." He quickly pulls a metal bucket from his sylladex and covers the flaming abomination. Kanaya turns her face away with horror while Terezi, finally hoarse with laughter, shakes violently with unspoken mirth. Karkat lets out a string of expletives that shake the very walls of the room. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU JUST DID THAT! YOU IGNORANT FUCKING FUCK! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOUR MANNERS! YOU'RE SO SPECTACULAR AT FAILING AT LIFE THEY SHOULD GIVE YOU A GOG DAMN MEDAL! 'HERE'S TO THE MOST FUCKIEST OF ALL THE FUCKASSES! GAZE UPON THE MIGHTY GLORY THAT IS HIS HEAD ENSCONCED SNUGLY IN HIS OWN BONE NOOK!' YOU KNOW WHAT? NO, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOUR MANNERS, AND FUCK THE BUCKET YOU WERE SPAWNED FROM!" The girls gasp at Karkat's virulent speech and watch in shock as he launches himself at Dave. Strider laughs tauntingly, scooping up the extinguished mess into the bucket, deftly placing it back into his sylladex before absconding out of the room. "Come on Karkles, let's race!" Karkat sputters out strangled sibilants before giving streaking out of the door. Their expletive laden banter fades the further into the meteor they go.

I'm quite sure Dave will find a way to empty the contents of that bucket onto Karkat's head prior to the end of the night. Kanaya gives Terezi a disgusted look, "Why do you always have to rile him up like that?" Terezi let out a bark of a laugh," Hehehe, It's a joke, Kan, Karkles has to learn to take one!" Kanaya shakes her head, "I thought you cared about him." She storms out of the room before Terezi can form a reply. I walk to the shelves in the back, ignoring her. Finding tea is easy enough, but where the hell are all of the cookies?! After a few futile seconds of search, I give up and alchemize a batch of jam thumbprints, piling them on a tray. I turn back, placing the cookies on the center island. I had quite forgotten that Terezi was even in the room. She glances sheepishly in my direction before giving chase to her friends, "It's just a joke..." I don't say anything in reply, there's no need to. She slinks out, shame-faced.

Alone. Being alone on the meteor is never a very comfortable feeling, even when you're just in the kitchen. Despite my mounting discomfort, I head over to the stove to set water to boil. Dave and I have taken turns going back into our servers and capchtaloging different foods to make, since there is little else to eat here outside of troll food. Most of it has a slimy consistency, and if not then it stinks of fish or worse. At Terezi's urging, Dave had tried grub-sauce, and had spent the entire night sick, screaming about the ants that had invaded his nasal cavities. I'd like to think I can learn from the mistakes of others.

I haven't eaten much today, but to be honest I'm not terribly hungry. I suppose it has something to do with being god tier, more power means fewer human needs? I don't know. The kettle starts to squeal, and I quickly take it from the stove top. I realize how quiet the area has fallen. Even Karkat's vehement curses have fallen into silence. I know it's irrational, but I feel as if I'm being watched. Eyes peer from me from every corner of the room, the creeping darkness, the empty crevices of the Void where the horrorterrors float outside of time and space. Unfamiliar sounds make me jump in my skin. I alchemize a mobile coffee mug, dump in my tea, and hurry back to the library. It's too far to go back to my bedroom alone, the library is the only room on the meteor that locks from the inside. I truly wish Dave hadn't antagonized Karkat. I wonder if his need to do so is connected his continual conflicts with his brother, or if it is perhaps his only way to cope with his loss. It would make sense, really. Traditional childhood psychology states that children, especially males, tend to cope with loss and express pain through physical means. It makes my heart ache for him with a sense of mutual loss. My own mother's death presses heavily on me in the silence.


	2. Chapter 2

The door clangs reassuringly behind me, but as I key in the code to lock it, I pause. A prickling sensation shivers up and down my spine. Eyes watch me from somewhere in the room. I place the cookies and tea on the table next to the door. There is no familiar luminescence brightening the room outside of the lights already on, so I know the intruder isn't Kanaya. A chilling, irrational fear makes my heart palpitate, akin to the experience of waking in the middle of the night convinced there are monsters under the bed. It's paralyzing. So that's what chucklevoodoo feels like. I don't need my sight to know who is here. A lack of greeting tells me plenty. It had to be Gamzee.

I reach out with my sight in order to determine if he intends to kill me, but see nothing of relevance. A glimpse of my room, Karkat looking angry, my old psychology books, nothing more. I turn slowly, with my hands up in a non-threatening manner. He makes no move but to stare back while anxiously shuffling back and forth from bare foot to foot. So the voodoo is reactive. Interesting. My eyes quickly scan him over, evaluating. He is tall, very tall, made even more so by his wild tangle of curly hair and towering horns. He's dressed only in a heavily soiled shirt and pants. Maybe at one time his pants had been purple, but they are a ragged, dull, dark grey at this point. Taking a deep breath, I dare to look at his face. His makeup is a hot mess, smeared and blotted. In the places the make-up does not cover, one could see a deep indigo blush. Despite all that had been said about him, he's quite handsome; high angular cheekbones, strong jaw, delicate nose. Eyes that matched his blush. The rest of him has a wiry strength to it, like one would see on a mid-to featherweight boxer. His hands clench and un-clench anxiously at his sides, and from what I can see of them, they are a contradiction. Heavily scarred and calloused, but thin, like an artist's would be. Why am I staring at a murder-troll's hands? It was only when he spoke that I realized how long I had been ogling him. He rubs behind his horn in a nervous tic, "I didn't know any motherfuckers were gonna be here...I like this room at night."

I pick up my tea and biscuits slowly and made my way to the center of the room, where the couches and low tables are. He watches my every move like a frightened animal, though I'm quite sure I have more to fear from his sinewy body than he of mine. Sure, I have magic, but who knows. It's not like I have a track record of being terribly lucky. Sitting on the couch, I gesture to the wing-chair beside me, silently inviting him to sit. He approaches the adjacent chair with uncertainty, drumming his fidgety hands on the back of it in a wild tattoo. " You ain't gonna tell nobody you seen me, are you?" It was clear he hadn't spoken much in the last year or so. His throat sounded as if it had been ravaged by sandpaper. His pitiful visage strikes a chord of pity in me. Perhaps I should try to help.

In a soft, soothing voice, "No, Gamzee. I'm not. Do you know my name?" motioning for him to sit in the wing chair that his fingers nervously drummed. He shyly shakes his head no as he sits down, hungrily eyeing the cookies in front of him. I push the plate in his direction. Noticing a coffee cup I had left on the table earlier, I split the tea in half and hold out the travel mug. "My name is Rose. I like this room too." He nods an affirmative, taking the tea and a cookie, giving each a tentative sniff. I hope they won't make him sick. So far it seemed that the Trolls could eat human food, but we could not consume theirs without having hallucinogenic nightmares. There could always be exceptions. He takes a bite of the pastry, a slight smile ghosts across his lips like the first peek of a sunrise. "Fuck, good." I smile encouragingly back. "You know why I like this room, Gamzee? It reminds me of home. I used to have a big library like this at my hive on Earth. I could spend hours and hours just reading and relaxing. May I ask why you like it in here?" He ducks his head down as he drinks his tea, mumbling, "S' messy, n' quiet. Like my hive use ta be." I chuckle softly as I look around, the room certainly has become a bit of a mess, books, scrolls, notepads and pens scattered all over the tables and floors. I try to steer the conversation into comforting territory, "I suppose it is. What did you do to relax at home, Gamzee?" His face gathers in concentration for a moment before he answers, "I used to get my chill on by baking, mostly. Maybe dropping an ill rhyme and slamming a motherfucking wicked elixir n shit." His face falls a bit, "Though it ain't like a motherfucker wants me cooking for them no-more."

He takes another cookie and sip of his tea, looking troubled. "What else do you like about it?" I prompt, trying to keep things focused on the positive. "Doors lock good, I guess. Can't be lettin a motherfucker see me much anymore. Can get my shuteye on lock up in here, no worries." I nod slowly, feeling somewhat guilty over interrupting his troubled sleep. Sensing my discomfort, he quickly blurts out, "Hey, no worries sister, I ain't gonna get all up an mad at'cha. Didn't have no time to clock the lock when I came in, cuz I heard some feets squeaking. Thought it was Kan, she's got a righteous anger tied on at a brother. I hid in the rafters. But it's all good in the hood, cuz you come in and up and share your tea and cookies with a bro." I don't even have a chance to calm him as the door opens, Karkat's familiar voice rasping in the angriest yell-whisper I've ever heard, "You crazy clown fuck! Where the flying hell are you? I told you to keep your polka-dotted ass down in your hiding spot! You know Kan and her gogdamn chainsaw could be here any minute! What did I tell you about locking the Gogdamn door! ?Jegus!"

He rushes over to Gamzee, quickly grabbing his moirail's hand and tugging him towards the door. It's not until Gamzee stands that he processes that I am on the other couch. He freezes, petrified, stammering a few uhs and errs at me before I hold my hand up to stop him. "I saw nothing, Kar. It's okay." Or at least I hope it is. Gamzee pats his friend's hand cheerfully, "Yeah best friend, she's all cool as bitchtits with me, gave me cookies and shit." Ah, the power of cookies. Karkat takes in the situation with the tea and cookies with a speculative glance, nods vigorously, turns heel to pull his friend, smiling and waving, from the room. As I had predicted, the abominable goo Strider had scooped up had sluiced a slime trail down Karkat's back. I do my best to suppress a snigger. The door shooshes shut behind them, leaving me in the silence of the book repository. I hop off the couch with relief, scooping up the last cookie and sipping my now cold tea. Perhaps helping him will provide welcome distraction from my frustrations. New ideas populate my thoughts as I walk back to my bedroom. Maybe I could help.


	3. Chapter 3

The night passes slowly, interspersed with dream bubbles and horrible nightmares of green monsters spewing destructive light. Tap. Taptaptap. Tap. I swat at whatever was pressing itself on my forehead and glower at the face and fingers inches from my sleep addled head. Strider dodges easily, stating "You have got to see this. We are officially under attack by the rainbow brigade." before promptly marching out of the room. Well screw him and his morning shenanigans. I don't even have the energy to pirouette off of a handle. With a groan, I roll over and glace at my Squiddles clock. 4am in the morning. Being awoken at this hour requires not an acrobatic feat off of a door fixture, but a swan dive off the highest board into the pool of my wroth. This better be either the birth of his miracle grub baby with Terezi, or bacon. I hope it's bacon. Stretching lazily, I slap at my wardrobifier button, setting it on rotate. I'm not in the mood for action pajamas today.

I spot Strider at the end of the hallway nearest the airlock exit, and shuffle reluctantly over to him. He hasn't slept yet, his red eyes contrasting with the purplish undertones of sleeplessness. "This better have something to do with bacon and waffles, Strider." He shakes his head. "Naw, girlfreind. Way worse than that." Without so much of a how do you do, he grabs me around the waist and rockets to the top of the tower, landing gently on the airlock tower platform. Terezi sniffs me out and waves a hello in my general direction as Dave sets me down, "Hey there lavender lady!" Dave cuts me off before I can return the pleasantry, pointing into the Void, "You see that?" A strange new light source in the Void has taken shape. I stare with surprise, it's reminiscent of the dreams I had in my short few moments of sleep. It reminds me of a fractured windshield, or an oil-slick caught in the sun. A fracture in the Void, exquisitely colored, but terribly puzzling. "So what do you psychic powers tell you about this?" he asks calmly. Terezi and I answer in unison, "I'm not psychic, Dave!" Terezi cackles behind me, "I guess we should have seen that coming, cotton candy! What have you to say, o mighty Seer of Light?"

I roll my eyes and chastise Dave," I just get visions of the future. And from what I can tell of my dreams last night, it isn't good." Terezi hmms in assent. He scrutinizes my face, as if just by looking at it he would understand the sentiment of my words. "What dreams, Ro?" I shake my head. "I'm not ready to talk before I get some coffee in me. Let's just go downstairs." He nods, sweeping Terezi off of her feet and flying back downstairs and to the kitchen. So much for the return trip. I free fall down the shaft, letting the adrenaline jog my cottoned mind to activity, before using a short burst of magic to glide down as a feather would. I power over to the kitchen, where Dave and Terezi have already alchemized bacon and pancakes. As I float to the counter to sit across from them, Dave looks at my feet askance, "Starting a new trend, LaLonde?" He inclines his head down, and to my chagrin, it was true. A single bunny slipper on one foot, and a Squiddles slipper on the other. Perhaps the blast that fractured the Void also affected the technology on board. Closing my eyes, I sigh. Too tired to care.

I plunk down across from the squabbling pair. He bats Terezi's hand away from his bacon with the ease of swatting a fly. I glower at him, biting out, "So much for chivalry, Dave. Where's the romance?" I quirk up my eyebrow in a smug sneer as he trudges to retrieve our coffee from the machine. "Woman, how much can you ask from for a man? I just woke your ungrateful ass up at the most romantic hour ever, carried you up a set of stairs, for the express purpose of looking at the stars, and am now," PLONK "serving you coffee. I get any more romantic I'll be proposing on one knee to you with angels singing around us saying how much I need you in my life and shit." He sits across from me, blowing on his coffee to cool it. I chuckle lightly, "Yes, and we would be able to tell our horrific incestuous children how you proposed to me on a meteor in front of your alien girlfriend." They both squawk "S/He is NOT my boy/girlfriend!" Too cute. I shrug indifferently, but it does little to calm their indigence. Their continued protestations fade to a mild nattering at the edges of my mind. I just smile in response, staring absently at my coffee. I have to drink it quickly, before that strange film develops, but the way it swirls soothes my sleep deprived mind.

"Hellooo...Meteor to LaLonde? What about those sick dreams? And what's up with that space fracturey whatever" Dave waves his hand under my nose to bring me back from my musings. I sigh a deep sigh of the put-upon "Last night, I saw a great green beast destroy himself on god-tier bed by tearing apart a dream-bubble with a psychic attack. Unfortunately, those present in the dream bubble, be it dead troll or human, may have been wiped from existence in the blast." Dave's face doesn't show the worry in his voice, "Well, I suppose we won't be taking him out to the movies, if a man's breaking out a harsh rageboner all over the place, screaming at the screen and shit." Terezi pipes up, "I do not think movies are on this creature's mind, Dave. Whoever he was, they are a greater threat to our future success than Bec Noir." I nod in agreement, "I fear that it was the blast I described that shattered the paradox space from which we had traveled. Could you still see Bec Noir behind us before you came to get me?"

He rubs his chin absently, "Actually, LaLonde, no. I know that asshat was hotter on our tails than a drunk frat guy on an ugly girl at two am during Mardi Gras, but no. I didn't see him." He takes off his glasses to clean them, glancing up at me, his deep red eyes filled with uncharacteristic concern. "So I suppose that's a problem, then? Blowing up dream bubbles and fracturing space? Like we didn't already have enough problems. This new one has to be like a stalker girlfriend from hell, deleting all our old contacts and yelling at us about them?" The joke has little effect on my now rotten mood, "No, but I do worry that this will somehow effect our entrance to the void game of our collective ancestors. I won't really know until I have more time to research. If there is anything to be found." Dave nods, "So, to the Batcave, then?" I nod weakly, slamming down the coffee and re-fill my travel mug. Terezi begs off from research duty, saying the old tomes are 'too delicate' to be licked. Dave glares mournfully at her back as she skips her way back to her room.


	4. Chapter 4

It's been hours in the library, and so far I have found little pertaining to a glowing ragebeast that haunts the dreams of teenagers struggling to overcome a devious videogame. If only life were that simple. For the millionth time, Dave lets out a tremendous sigh, and I just can't take it anymore. "Dave, do me a favor, would you?" He perks up in the anticipation of not having to read any further from dusty tomes, a pleading look singing from his eyes. "Could you please find Karkat and tell him to meet me here in the library? I'd like to discuss what's going on with him." With a mischievous grin he replies, "Sure, sure, I'll do this favor for you. I'll bring that shouty munchkin right to your door, all ready and raring or whatever. But I have a price, bro's always gotta have a price." I squint my eyes with irritation, "What? What price?" He stands dramatically, saying in his best mafia voice, "Someday, I will ask of you a favor in return. No questions asked." I wave him off, "Fine, just get the cottonballs out of your mouth and find Karkat." He zips out of the room with exuberance. As I take another sip of coffee, an ear-splitting screech of angry invective rings out in the hallway. The library door shooshes open. Dave tosses Karkat, who is currently lodged in the infamous bucket of last night, into the room with his favor request, "Lock the door!" Karkat lands in a clattering sprawl near the couches, eye twitching. I think he's so angry he can't move. Taking pity on him, I pull away the offending bucket and place it within my own sylladex. Karkat makes no sound for a moment or two, twitching violently as if he were a newborn bird in the throes of escaping it's shelled prison. Then the shouting began. To the surprise of no-one, ever. Gogdamnit Dave.

"THAT...FUCKING...ALBINO...FUCKASSHOWDAREHEDOTHATISWEAR TOGOGIMGOINGTOBREAKAGLASSDRI NKINGINSTRUMENTANDCUTHISFUCK INGFACEOFFANDMAKEHIMEATIT!" His tirade ends as he wheezes to catch his breath. Hands on his knees, he takes inventory of his now ruined clothing. I try to be diplomatic, "I'm quite sorry Karkat, but I thought I should tell you of what Dave and I saw last night." He stands up, flinging a bit of the goo off of his fingers to gog only knows where in the room, "WHAT FRESH HELL COULD BE SO GOG DAMN IMPORTANT THAT YOU NEED TO WAKE ME UP AT SEVEN IN THE MORNING? HAVE THE LAST TWO DAYS BEEN THE PISS OFF KARKAT FESTIVAL? SHOULD I BE CARRYING BALLOONS AND THE ASSHAT BATON LEADING THE BRIGADE OF INCOMPETENT DOUCHEBAGS THAT HAVE TROUBLE WITH THEIR SLEEPY TIMES?!" I inwardly curse Dave for being such a rapscallion this early in the morning, but take a calming breath before I respond.

"Karkat, I have two urgent matters to discuss. One, the event of a fracture in paradox space caused by a being of immense power who may or may not be a direct threat to our future success," I hesitate, "And the much needed treatment your friend requires to regain his mental health. It is your choice of which you would prefer to discuss first." Though I did not think it possible, Karkat's voice reaches yet another earsplitting level, "WHAT DID THAT FUCK FACE OF A DOUBLE MOBIUS REACHAROUND NOIR DO NOW?!" This is not going to be fun, "Actually, Karkat, it was not Noir. I do not think he is in pursuit of us any longer." His eye twitches, "WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?" Really, if he keeps shouting like that someday he'll have a heart attack. "If you could just calm down, Karkat, I'll explain." I don't wait for a response, choosing to plow on instead, "It seems that a new being, previously unknown to us, has emerged into paradox space. Upon his arrival, he promptly killed himself on a quest platform in a dream-bubble, which I may add contained many of our dead selves from doomed timelines, thus fracturing reality itself. I've yet to find any corroborating information on this particular entity, but I cannot emphasize enough how dangerous he or it is. I think Bec Noir has effectively been cut out of this part of the Void. To be honest I don't know what to make of it."

I take another deep breath while I wait for Karkat to speak. He blinks for a moment, before responding in a calmer tone, "Welp, Fuck. Nothing in the tomes so far?" I nod disconsolately, "None. So much of what we are doing now is unprecedented, it is difficult to even dig up information that is remotely similar." He pulls at his face,"So did the king of bulgemunchers actually see the dream bubble being blown up, or did you with your psychic powers?" I decide to let the psychic jab go. "I did. Why?" Karkat walks over to one of the tables with purpose, picking up a pen and paper. "I've got a hunch. Could you just describe the monster to me?" Bewildered, I begin, "Uh, sure. He was rather tall, green, with a technicolor overcoat, white pants, one clawed foot, one peg-leg, carrying a wand and a cane, um..." He interrupts, "Head shaped like a skull?" I nod eagerly. "Yes, exactly. With glowing eyes that looked strangely like...billiard balls?" Karkat slams his pen down, shoving the pad away from himself. The move knocks over an unstable stack of books next to him, making us both jump. "Well, fuck me. That's the troll version of Death. What a magnificent fuckfestival this turned out to be! Prostate milking and reach arounds for everyone!"

Moderately horrified by his metaphor, I ask, "Clearly your version of death is quite different than our guy in a black cloak and escorting the dead to their final resting place." Karkat snorts a dry, mirthless laugh, "An escort, hardly. Our death is the destroyer of worlds, universes, even. He doesn't give one shit about the worthless lives of the dead. That's the job of his handmaiden." I absorb the shock of his statement in silence before something clicks inside my head. "Handmaiden...you mean Aradia and her cute death fangirl outfit? I never pegged her as one to work for tyrannical world killers." He shrugs, "Shit, it's the stuff kids tell each other on retarded ass homoerotic tenting trips in the woodlands. Something to scare us in between games of ass-grabbing or whatever the fuck. We never considered any of it to be true."

He looks at me impatiently, almost as if to will the sudden identity of our Death like figure into my brain. "I suppose we must find a way to contact Aradia, if she has not already been locked out of this branch of paradox space or destroyed in a dream bubble. In the meantime, could you please help me locate the texts that include your planet's mythos on Death? I am not terribly familiar with it, and I still struggle with reading your language." He nods defeatedly, "Sure will, you are fuck deep in helpfulness," he stomps over to the section of the library Kanaya and I had cordoned off for Troll-related text, muttering angrily under his breath. I sit on the couch, rubbing my eyes and examining the clock on the far wall. It was just 8 am. Fuck my hot life. Karkat slams down several books on the table before me, "Enjoy your dust jamboree." He turns quickly to the door in a fashion that tells me he is well on his way to absconding the shit out of there.

"We are not done talking." My voice is cold enough to stop Karkat in his tracks. He doesn't turn to look at me, instead choosing to yell at the wall, "WHAT USELESS DAMN INSIGHT DO YOU WANT TO GIVE ME NOW? HAS A GOGDAMN CLOUD FORMED INTO THE SHAPE OF A TOWERING BEHEMOTH OF A BONE BULGE BEFORE YOUR EYES TO FORETELL US OF HOW FUCKED WE REALLY ARE?" Surprising as his reaction is, well, not really, I am prepared to press the issue. Insightful. How protective he was over his broken clown! "No, Karkat, I have not foreseen the master of all bulges within the Void. We do need to talk about Gamzee. I assume he has not improved much since the incident?" Karkat spins, marching towards me with such a violence I think momentarily to protect myself. His small frame looms over me on the couch as he spits out how much "THIS. IS. NONE. OF. YOUR. BUISNESS. NONE. OF. IT. KEEP. THE. FUCK. AWAY. FROM. HIM."

He quickly stalks back to the door. This is stupid. I float in front of the door, calmly explaining, "I will not force you to choose either way whether or not to seek treatment for Gamzee. I am not looking to disrupt his relationship with you, nor am I eager to harm him." His stalwart attempt to leave the room slows to a stop as he considers my words. "On my planet, the mentally unstable were not culled. We would do our best to help them with the therapy and medicine we had available. I've studied psychology at great length over the years, and with some luck we may be able heal his mind. I will not say it is guaranteed, but it is possible." He gazes stubbornly at his shoes, giving away nothing. With the best reassuring voice I can muster, "As I said before. I will not push you. Think about what I've offered, and if you choose to see it through you are welcome to speak to me at your convenience. I'm usually in my room, or here in the library." I step aside to allow him passage out. He breezes by like a wraith, unseeing, a haunted expression painted clearly over his features. Once the door closes behind him, I have little to do but wait for Kanaya, tell her the news, and wait for her to assist me in translating the Alteranian texts.

I move back to the couch and rub my eyes as I sit down. If he agrees, how the hell am I going to deal with deranged honking assholes, and the embodiment of death itself? I suppose I will have to dig up my old psychology books. To the surprise of no one but myself, I promptly fall into a drowsy stupor until I am shaken awake by Kanaya. "Are you quite all right, Rose? I spoke to Karkat about our current debacle, and I assume you have been awake most of the night?" I sit up, stretching my arms and yawning, "Yes, unfortunately. The Seer of Light has many duties. Which include being awoken at all hours by men who believe themselves to be the very embodiment of cool."

Kanaya giggles lightly, "I suppose your frozen milk drinks bring all the males to the lawnring, then." I smile crookedly at her attempt at humor, "Indeed they do, Kan. These frozen refreshments of mine have brought teeming millions to their knees in fascination. In fact, they have caused some to pray. As we speak, a church is erected in reverence of them." Kanaya frowns slightly, "I don't think I quite understand the power of your frozen beverages, but since I am the only one who can read Alternian, why don't you go back to your respite block for some rest? I shall take copious notes, and we will speak later." What have I done to earn such a wonderful friend? My voice is full of warmth when I respond, "As always, Kan, your kindness is great. I believe I shall take your advice." Strangely, her luminescence becomes brighter at my words, and if I am not mistaken, she smiles shyly as I pass her on the way out the door. Interesting.


	5. Chapter 5

The darkness, at this point, is soothing. I've been awake for far too long to care about the intermittent honks, squeaks, or other strange sounds made by this hulking mass of a meteor. I just want to lay down for ten minutes without being interrupted. My head is killing me, my eyes burn from a lack of sleep, and yet I cannot calm the worry in my mind. The door to my bedroom is wide open, making me groan internally. I can only imagine what inane project Dave and Terezi need my assistance on now. I flip the lights on to the low setting as I enter, "Dave, honestly, I am not in the mood for your shenanigans, entertaining or otherwise. I really need to sleep." The figure at the edge of my bed sits up ramrod straight. I realize it is not, in fact, Dave. "You've got to be fucking kidding me. There is no way, shape or form, that you could confuse me for that masterful fuck-up. I'm practically the Troll statue of David compared to that asshole!" I glance at my grumpy, nubby-horned intruder archly, "Yes, Karkat, truly you are the pinnacle of all troll-kind. It's a wonder you have a single moment's rest." "Fuck you." he grumbles, and then falls silent. I'm not in a hurry to talk about the latest intrigue, so I settle down into my lounge-chair, waiting for him to speak.

And wait. He stares at everything in the room but me, as if he is an interior decorator evaluating the space he will be working with. His gaze traces over each throw pillow on my white and pink frilly bed, my messy writing desk, the chair in which I sit, along with the knitting basket beside it. He seems particularly intrigued by the entertainment center, but doesn't comment. His hands worry at the hem of his sweater, feet tapping a staccato frantically on the floor. Finally irritated by his lack of speech, I prepare myself to ask what it is he seeks, and am quickly interrupted, "Do you really think you can help him?" His face is etched with worry and vulnerability, haunted as his moirail's had been. I exhale, "I believe so, but I am not making promises. It really depends on his response to treatment." Karkat's eyes sink to the floor, shoulders hunched in defeat, "Oh." I walk over to the bed, sitting next to him. He looks so small like this, (even though he is a bit taller than I) and just so...heartbroken. I know trolls are weird about physical contact, but I feel compelled to place my arm around his shoulder.

With little more than a pat, he is weeping on my shoulder, his mane of hair and nubs of his horns lodged under my chin. Surprised, I pat his back awkwardly. I'm suddenly glad I shut my door. When he recovers, he mutters between hiccups, "I swear to mother-grubbing Gog if you tell anyone about that..." I gently punch him on the shoulder, "May I burst into flame if I do. I take it the last two years have been rather difficult?" He nods while he stands up to pace around the room. "Yeah. There are days, even weeks, where he's fine, acting like himself, sort of, and then...I guess he remembers, or something triggers him...and it can get scary." Taking a notepad and pen out of my sylladex, I prompt him to continue, "What do you mean by scary?" He pauses in the center of the room, rubbing behind one of his horns. That must be a universal nervous tic. " It's like...all of a sudden a switch is thrown in his head. He's not the goofy clown fuck I know and love, he's...a fucking monster. All of a sudden he believes in the hemostatus bullshit, mumbling about how he should cull everyone who isn't an indigo blood or higher, how everyone else is trash compared to him, how the infirm and mutants should just die. Pretty much my worst fucking nightmare. I mean, I guess it's normal because that's how highbloods are supposed to...act, I guess." His insecurity blares off of him, a searchlight in the night.

Shifting on his feet awkwardly, he decides to sit on the floor. "If I remember, Karkat, the hemostatus is a caste system in which ranged from red to purple?" "Do I really have to explain this bullshit again?" he growls irritably. " Indulge me Mr. Vantas." I say with a forced smile. Prickly bastard. Karkat rolls his eyes at the formality and begins, "Yeah, the closer on the spectrum to fuchsia, the higher caste, the more privileges." He falls silent, fiddling with his socks (where are his shoes?) I prompt him again: "There have been those who question this system?" With a weary sigh he nods, "Yeah, guy named the Signless supposedly spoke out against it, said that we should resist it through peaceful protest and shit, long time before I was born." Neat. Troll MLK. "Whatever happened to him?" I inquire. "Culled by order of the Condescension. Tied to a pike with burning hot shackles, shot with an arrow. Supposedly had mutant blood" He stands and starts pacing again. I will not press him further. He is very insecure about his blood color, though I hardly see how it matters anymore. Worst kept secret ever. He paces again, surely wearing a hole in my shaggy white carpet.

Mulling it over for a moment, I look at him directly. "What is your opinion, then?" His pacing comes to a halt as he slowly meets my gaze. "My opinion? Are you fucking kidding me? No, wait, wait, this is your human fucking sarcasm, isn't it? Well bloat me up like a floatbeast and string me the fuck along, why don't you? Of course I fucking hate it, I'm a gogdamn mutant. If they had ever found out what I was on Alternia, they would have poked me with more holes than a particularly fragrant batch of musclebeast cheese. My moirail is a gogdamn indigo blood that spouts off hemofacsist bullshit at random intervals, which may or may not be a symptom of his overly addled thinkpan finally coming to the screeching derailment we all knew was coming. Jegus jumping christmas I'm hyperventilating." Karkat crumples to a heap at the foot of my bed, panting. I was unaware that anger took that much energy.

Handing him a handkerchief, I explain as he calms, "We can use this information to our favor yet. The basics of what I understand from this conversation is that Gamzee has anger and self worth issues. That is something we can eventually fix. He has had a serious break from reality, something we can medicate if necessary. He has you to ease him into normal thought patterns, which is a good start as any." Karakat sags against the foot-board, either out of relief or weariness, before he mutters, "Gog this is so hard." I can't help myself but to say, "Imagine how he feels." He snorts dryly, "I think I'd be the new posterboy for crazy on this ship if I did." I snark in return, "No, you're more like junior posterboy. You'd have the honorary mention under Gamzee." he smiles and laughs, probably for the first time in months. I felt a little proud of myself.

Karkat sits quietly for a moment or two, before asking "When do you want to start?" Tapping a finger on my knee, I muse, "I'd like to brush myself up on psychology basics, since it's been awhile since I've actively analyzed anyone. I'd also like you and Gamzee to keep a track of his moods, emotions, and thoughts so I have a little more diagnostic material to go on. I might need some of your help to alchemize common antidepressants and anti-psyhotics to avoid suspicion." Karkat huffs, "Yeah, great, what the shit is an anti-psychotic or depressant? How are we keeping track of the kaleidoscope of his crazy ass moods?" I suppose it was too much to hope for that trolls would have some sort of psychiatry on which I could draw on.

"Nevermind about the drugs. We'll find an alternative. I want you to keep track of everything in a journal." I take two out of my sylladex. "I mean everything. When he sleeps, eats, thinks, says, acts. You'll be responsible for taking note of his actions, thoughts out loud, and schedule. I want him to take note of his personal thoughts, dreams, and emotions. How you write it down and when are up to you. But you should try to make it at least once or twice a day. The more you write the more I have to work with. I'd also like to meet with Gamzee one more time before we start in earnest to explain what we will be doing." Karkat stiffens at the mention of the idea, prompting me to hurry on, "I don't want to surprise him with anything. He should know exactly it is we will be doing. Somehow I don't think surprises fly over too well right now." Karkat nods a negative wryly in response, "You should have seen what happened when I tried to give him a wriggling day present. Ended up shredded around the room."

I smile wanly in response. "I see. Well, I recommend that we begin a week from today. Bring him by my room tonight around 12, to avoid complications." Karkat stands to stretch, turning to give me a hand. Much to my surprise, he pulls me into a quick, rough, hug. In an instant, he pulls away and walks towards the door. I barely hear him say, "Thanks, Rose." I doubt he's ever thanked anyone before, and imagine he would deny it if accused of doing so. I plop on my bed in exhaustion, slumping back with closed eyes. Perhaps now can be some rest for the wicked.


	6. Chapter 6

Several nightmares later, Kanaya rouses me from troubled sleep with interesting news. "I have finished with the texts dealing with the troll version of Death, and I believe we may have happened upon some interesting insights." I groan and stretch languidly as I sit up, stealing a glance over at the clock on my bedside stand, 8:05pm. I don't have much time to work with Kanaya before my meeting with Gamzee. Think Quick! "Thank you Kan! You look exhausted, perhaps you need something to drink?" Kanaya's eyes glaze over a bit at the mention of food, but she takes a hasty step backward. "It may be in my best interest to do so, perhaps I can ask a favor of Karkat or Terezi. I shall leave you with the notes to peruse, we can discuss them tomorrow." (Weird. So. Weird.) Shit! Come up with a distraction! "I think Karkat is off investigating the rest of the meteor today..." Kan's eyes narrow. "So he's with Gamzee. Gog I hate him. Platonically!" she adds hastily. I choose to not give her a hard time about it, taking the notebook proffered to me. "Well, I'm quite sure Terezi's prerogative today is assisting Dave and the Mayor in further construction of Can Town. Surely she'd be glad to help." Kanaya agrees, turning heel and licking her lips hungrily. I turn my attentions to her notes.

To be honest, the notes Kanaya deciphered from the lore of her people is quite amazing.

"Death Is A God Of Destruction, A Harbinger For The Undoing Of A Universe. He Is Capable Of Using Time Travel And Magic, And Uses Both To Ensure His Arrival. He Is Served By A Handmaiden, Who Escorts The Dead To Their Final Resting Place As Well As Assisting the First Guardian, Another Minion, In Manipulating The Intended Universe. Both She And The First Manipulate The Events In A Given Universe Or Planet To Create Ideal Conditions For Their Master's Arrival. (A Universe/Planet's Death.) Both The Guardian And Death (Also Known As Lord English) Have Limited Omnipotence, Indicating That Unpredictable Or Unprecedented Events Prove Difficult For Either To Manipulate Or Change." (And so on.)

Hmm...Interesting. Unpredictable and Unprecedented events...Perhaps we have more working in our favor than I originally foresaw. (Dammit I'm Doing The Capitals in my head!) I continue reading until about 11pm. I resolve to seek out Aradia somehow to discuss the "Guardian," whom I strongly believe to be a certain Doc Scratch. I'm concerned about her new vocation as Handmaiden, insomuch as it may be detrimental to our future efforts to successfully undermine Sburb and create a new universe for us all to cohabitate. I take out my trusty notepad to scribble down a few reminders for tomorrow, and chew the tip of my pen thoughtfully. That's more or less it for research today. Placing both on my nightstand, I stand up to pace and ponder my next project.

Gamzee. What should I tell him? What should we discuss? How should I approach this situation? I know he is unstable, as well possessing anger/anxiety and self worth issues. From what I've heard about him prior to this game, he was more or less a laid back, juggalo pothead. (Sopor, for them.) He feels a loss in his strange clown faith, a lack of "miracles" in his life. Perhaps the stress of the game combined with Strider's revelation of the ICP created a crisis of identity for Mr. Makara. I continue to write down my theories until I take another quick glance at the clock. 11:35. If I know anything about Karkat, he will probably be unrelentingly early, and refuse to leave his moirail's side. I go about setting my room up for our meeting, putting out a set of chairs and a small table borrowed from the kitchen, turning the lights down, soothing music, candles, and incense. I recall Karkat mentioning once in passing he enjoyed the type of sandalwood variety. Hopefully it would prove a universally approved smell. I break out tea and cookies just in case. 11:45. I sigh, settling myself in one chair facing the other two. I put out a pad and a few pencils, now more nervous than anything else. I'd hate to bring out his murderous side on our first meeting. I'm rather attached to my head.

At exactly 11:50, Karkat comes bustling in, dragging in a pleasantly smiling Gamzee behind him. As he fusses with the door to make certain its closed and locked, I stand to offer Gamzee a handshake, which he bats away. "Nah, baby girl, hugs are awesome." Note to self: Subject has no personal boundaries. Thankfully Karkat wasn't looking. Gently disentangling myself from his goofy gangly grasp, gog his arms are long, I lead him to his seat. I pat the other, inviting for Karkat to join us. He nods no vigorously and sits on my bed instead. Hmm. Gamzee grins when he sees the plate of cookies and begins munching. Karkat hasn't spoken a word, so I take a deep breath and begin.

"Gamzee, did Karkat tell you why he was bringing you here today?" He looks up from his cookies shyly, crumbs already on the front of his still dirty shirt, "Yeah, Karbro was up and telling me you want to talk about what's all rattling around my thinkpan? Gotta tell you, I'm already pale for Karbro. S'super fresh you wants to be talkin to a bro...but, um.." I can clearly see Karkat's red face busily staring a hole into the floor. Supah cute. I chuckle a little. "No, Gamzee, this isn't a solicitation for a quadrant." I think I see a hint of disappointment. Hm. "What I am interested in is helping you. As I understand it, the last two years have been difficult. I've studied psychology, which is a study of how the mind works and methods of healing it." Gamzee scrunches his nose a bit as he stares at his teacup, "So, you want to heal a brother's thinkpan? Like make it better?" I can tell he isn't exactly cottoning to the idea, "Yes, Gamzee. Does that make you uncomfortable?" He glances up at me before looking over to Karkat, who still seems to be a bright shade of red. "Well, I gots my best friend for all my feeling jams, so I don't get it, why you wanna talk to me so bad and shit?"

Oh. OH. Oh gog I hope I'm not committing some weird troll taboo right now. Change tactics! "It is not that I need to speak with you Gamzee, this is a platonic conversation in every meaning of the word. I am not interested in a relationship with you, but I can clearly see you are having difficulty dealing with the realities forced on us as a result of the game and it's subsequent fallout." He takes an experimental sip of the tea before looking back at me, "So you want to all up an talk about my feelings platonic like? YOU THINK SOMETHING IS FUCKING WRONG WITH ME?" Karkat looks up with alarm, rushing to his moirail's side to shoosh him. Note to self: Quick temper. His eyes don't entirely turn red, just enough to make him frightening. His fingernails claw the top of the table surface, leaving deep gouges. I keep my poker face studiously in place, refusing to look away from his sneer. Once he calms down with one last squeak of a honk, I continue.

"No, I don't think that there is something wrong with you. I think you need some help dealing issues arising from before, during, and after Sgrub. All I am offering is help. Nothing more." He looks to Karkat for direction, who nods an emphatic yes. He turns to me curiously, "All you want to do is help a motherfucker out? Aw shit, girl, why didn't you say so?" He knocks over his chair in his haste to gather both Karkat and myself into a group hug, "We are gonna up and motherfucking kick out those feels, brosephina!" Damn he's strong. Note to self: Mercurial. "So what all does a brother have to do to get his helpin on?" I breathe out a sigh of relief, "I think we should meet again next week, at the same time we did today. In the meantime, what I'd like you and Karkat to do is keep a log of everything you think, feel, and do. He'll explain the specifics later, but essentially it's like keeping a journal. You can respond in any way you like, draw pictures, write lyrics, entries, stories, dream-logs, whatever seems right to you at the moment. Write as often as you can, as much as you can. What you write will give me a better idea of how to help you. Karkat, if you could deliver the journals to me an hour before our meeting, I would greatly appreciate it."

Karkat gives me a dirty look, but is swept away by Gamzee's giggle and hug, "Aw man! I ain't kept a write-book since I was a wriggler! It's gonna be a motherfucking journey brother!" Karkat rolls his eyes before speaking, finally, "Yes, yes, let's all sing out in joy over the fun and games it will be to put your thinkpan back together you crazy fucking clown." With a pout Gamzee responds, "Haha bro, you know you are all kinds of down with the clown! Pale for you bro!" Karkat blushes and pats Gamzee's hand awkwardly, "Pale for you too." His blush reaches the tips of his ears. To ease his vexation, I ask Gamzee, "Do you have any questions for me? Is there anything that would make you feel more comfortable when we meet next?" Gamzee turns his lazy smile to me as he grabs his moirail around the waist and pulls him closer. He looks horrified, lol. "Do we gots to sit at a table all formal like, sister? I'm feelin like something more like, ah, pileish?" Karkat's level of horrification raises higher. I'll have to ask about that. "The cookies n drinks are motherfucking awesome tho!" I grin indulgently, "I think I can manage to find something more comfortable. I'll be sure to bring snacks again. Anything else?" Gamzee screws up his face in concentration, "Nah, brosephina, it's all bitchtits up in here. We all done? I got a motherfuckin rude ass hunger up in me right now." I smile and lead the conjoined twins to the door, "Remember, write down EVERYTHING. If you have any other questions, or have an emergency and need to speak with me, contact me on Trollian or send Karkat." Gamzee waves as he leaves the room. Grabbing his compatriot's arm I whisper urgently, "Karkat, a word?"

He lets out a low grunt of irratation, "What now? You want me to monitor his trips to the gaper too?" I don't even bother to respond to his question, "Two things. One, he needs a bath and new clothes. He is beyond funky. I'm amazed Terezi hasn't been able to track him down." Karkat's eyes widen momentarily before he spits out, "Yeah, what's two?" He's not going to like this. "Until I feel he's ready for it, I'd like you to remain in the room for our sessions. You have a unique ability to calm him when he's triggered." Karkat huffs, "Of course I fucking do. I'm the master of troll romance. Gogdamn Troll DaVinci over here."Oh. Right then. I guess that's a thing moirails do. He shifts uncomfortably before finishing, " He's gonna have to use your ablution chamber though, mine is too close to Terezi's and Kanaya's. And I don't know where he's going to get a clean set of clothes."

I hmm in assent, contemplating. We'll have to get him out of his clothes to alchemize a new set, preferably somewhere out of the way from normal foot traffic. Karkat gives me a look of, "Well?" before I remember to tell him my plan out loud. We schedule a time during the day that I know everyone else will be engaged elsewhere so Gamzee can make use of my shower. In fact, he's welcome to use it every day if he's so inclined. Karkat looks surprised by my generous offer, but I don't have more time to waste. With a gentle prod out the door and polite words of goodbye, I close my door for the last time of the night. I whine piteously when I look at the clock. It's nearly two a.m. Bleh.


	7. Chapter 7

Beep beep beep BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP With a groan I slap the alarm next to my bed. 9am. A full night's rest, dreams notwithstanding. I pull on my action pajamas, feeling the need for comfort after a mildly disturbing night. I rub my eyes on the way to the kitchen and ponder the projects I've taken on. The transmutation of our failed session to a successful one. The attempt to defeat a nearly omnipotent being. The healing of a destroyed troll mind. As one would say, there are many irons in the fire. In fact, all of them. All of the irons are in the fire. Kanaya meets me in the kitchen, wordlessly passing me a cup of coffee. It's nice to have someone who knows me so well on this meteor. I appearify a stack of crepes from my favorite place of pancakery making before sitting down across from Kan. "I assume you slept well, Rose?" she asks with a polite smile. "As well as one can on a rock in space hurdling towards doom, I suppose." She laughs, a lilting warble that reminds me of sunlight and summer. "Your sarcasm remains fastidiously in place, I see. If you'll forgive me, I'll meet you in the library?" I nod mutely. I watch as she leaves, swift, sure-footed, graceful, fashionable. Like clockwork, she meets me every morning in the kitchen, but before I eat, she excuses herself to go down to the library. I think she's grossed out by others eating food since her transformation. Why she chooses to do so every morning is a bit of a mystery. Perhaps to show solidarity, perhaps out of habit, perhaps, perhaps...I'll have to ask Karkat.

I drift into the library, Kanaya is storming around letting out a litany of curses that I've never heard cross her lips before. Even her typing quirk is is obvious in her speech, "God Damn That Clown I Swear To Gog If I See Him I Will Chop Off His Fucking Face And Wear It Like A Mask! I Will Make That Idiot Wear His Gogdamn Intestines Like Garters To His Funeral!" She slams down a set of books we have been working on collaboratively with a scream. "I Can't Fucking Believe It, LOOK WHAT HE DID TO OUR BOOKS!" With eyebrows raised in surprise, I glance over at the page she is wildly gesticulating at. There are strange smears blocking out some of the words, as well as type-faced similies =O) and Honks. They are written page after page. The indigo hue makes me shiver, I can only imagine how many times he cut himself to write these things. Self-mutilation on top of the long list of things wrong with Gamzee. Wonderful. "Well, we know who our perpetrator is, but what information does he seem so bent on blocking out?" Kanaya takes a calming breath before replying, "From What I Can Tell, It Mostly Has To Do With The Beginnings Of Our Games, As Well As The Creation Of Bec Noir." I pause, considering. I choose to distract instead of inflame.

Asking cautiously, "I assume Aradia spoke to you about Doc Scratch in a bubble?" "Yes." she says curtly, "I have suspicions that he may, in fact, be the First Guardian. As I understand it, he manipulated the events of the entrance of your game, as well as meddling within my own. He mentioned on many occasions that he had "holes" in his omnipotent memory, yes?" I say nothing, waiting for her to continue. I'm pretty sure she's musing out loud. "We spoke of my Death-God's ability to traverse in time and space, yes?" I wait for her to catch on. She stares, first at me, and then at the text, and back to me. "Death Utilized Our Books To Manipulate Events That Already Happened?" I could see the tension slowly leaking out of her as she sank back into her chair like a deflating balloon. "So...the foolish clown has somehow assisted us? By creating unpredictable events...Gamzee has in fact given us an advantage over Death?"

She closes her eyes, rubbing woefully at her temples. " I truly wish this was an example of your sarcasm, Rose. I do not understand. He killed Nepeta and Equius. He has hidden their bodies, along with others, somewhere in this hell-hole of a meteor. He may even kiss their dead bodies." Great. Necrophilia. I wait for her to continue. "His eyes...the way he acted...you should have seen him. I was so afraid for my friends." She finally falls silent, continuing her ministrations on her neck and shoulders. I give her a moment to fully process the implications of Gamzee's actions. I can't even pretend to myself I understand how to address this topic with her. I have my own episodes of grimdarkness to atone for, at some point in the future. She's carried a grudge for so long, and I know I would do much the same in her position. I empathize. But now I have a niggling feeling that Gamzee may be instrumental in the future defeat of Lord English. Healing his broken psyche might be even more so. Or it could play right into his hands. Without a Vision, there is no true way of knowing.

"Rose? Are you alright?" Kanaya has leaned forward, gazing intently at me. "You seem very pale, are you sure?" I don't feel different... "Yes, of course. I'm just considering our options." "Options?" she echoes. The niggling at the back of my mind begins to flower, writhing and arching from my sub-conscious to my waking mind. I See. Flashes of our potential futures collide together in my mind. A psychology book, associated with positive feelings. A smiling Gamzee hugging his moirail with others looking on. A pill bottle, negative feelings. Plants, positive. The flashes move faster, Gamzee and Dave, A green Beast, Gamzee in a ridiculous outfit talking to an unfamiliar girl, a final moment in a battle, all are scattered and one stands. Screaming, Screaming, Screaming, the earth shaking under my feet, my face blistered by the power of the aftershocks. A splitting pain in my head.

I dully hear Kanaya's voice calling to me, "Rose? Rose? Rose, should I get the attentions of Mr. Strider? Rose?" My face stings as she slaps me again. I push her away, painfully sitting up. It looks like I fell between the couch and the center table during my vision. My jaw feels slick with spittle, and I wipe it away with the back of my hand. Ouch. Everything hurts. I blink owlishly as Kanaya helps me back to my feet and settles me back on the couch. "You scared me for a moment there, Ms. LaLonde! Have your visions always been so violent?" My head aches and my stomach roils mutinously as I mumble "No. Did I hit my head?" Kan hovers over me with uncertainty, greed filling her eyes as she stares at my hairline. "I am afraid so. Before I could even lift a finger you had hit your head on the corner of the table." She shies away before asking, "Um, may I? You will heal much faster!"

At first, I don't quite get what it is she is asking permission for, until I feel a persistent welling of warm fluid over my left eyebrow. Oh. OH. Oh my. I suppose vampire spit is as good as any band-aid? I tilt my head towards her lips. I feel a slight nick of her fangs against my skin before her cool tongue caresses the laceration. Oddly enough, the scent of her imminently close body reminds me of mint and doctor's office. It's soothing. Her chest heaves excitedly as it thrums in a series of satisfied hums and clicks. She pushes a bit closer, and while the pain in my head is receding, I fear to move. Any reader of a good vampire novel knows an "excited" vampire is a dangerous one.

The library door swooshes open, and a shocked voice barks out, "Whoa, now ladies! It's rude not to wait for me! Can't be havin the bread be touchin all up on one another without a little meat in between!" I roll my eyes, but Kanaya's body tenses as she rumbles out a deep growl. I push forward to a sitting position, forcing Kan to sit back on her haunches. "Dave, shut up. There will be no bread, nor will there be any meat." I eye Kan archly as she turns a lovely shade of green, still snarling, "She had a Vision, during which she had hit her head. I was healing her wound, Strider." She swiftly stands to straighten her dress. "I think it would be best to escort her back to her quarters, she seems to have done herself an injury." She narrows her eyes at Dave, "As her supposed brother, perhaps you should watch over her as she heals." She lifts me easily, shoving me at my chagrined "brother." Nothing kills a dirty joke like incest. "Now go." Dave sweeps me into his arms and floats back to my room. "Girl, you got a hella lot of romance goin on. Me sweepin you off your feet like I'm some kind of feet sweeper robot, hot vampire chick all on your grill, what are your secrets? Tell them to John, boy's got no swag!" I can't help but laugh.

Kanaya fussily fluffs pillows and places them behind me while giving Dave the stink-eye. He finally shows concern. "So what did you see this time? A romance between myself and a green monster? Hot sloppy makeouts between John and Karkles? I could totally see that coming. Karkat's got a bonebulge for him a mile wide, son. I see that shit getting matrimonial, like they wanna take their time with it, get the right setting and all. Gogdamn white doves and rose petals raining from the sky while Barry White gets his sing on." Though his insinuations would be enough to make Freud blush, I can see the strain it takes to make light of what happened. Kanaya returns with a tray of milk (I hope) and cookies (I hope) and places them on my lap. She takes a cool cloth from her sylladex and places it across my forehead. I didn't realize I was feverish until she did so. "Thank you. Both of you." She smiles warmly, almost like a mother, "You are most welcome, Rose. Your body temperature will momentarily be higher while the wound in your forehead heals. It is a side-effect of the venom in my saliva."

She awkwardly pats the back of my hand while her cheeks turn a lovely light shade of jade, "Mr. Strider, I believe it is time to allow Rose to rest. Do not worry about the vision now, we will speak of it later." I guess she had a change in opinion. He's a rapscallion anyway, I'd never feel safe sleeping around him. Probably end up with phalluses drawn on my forehead. He squawks in protest, but I hold a hand up to appease him. I smile genuinely at her, "Thank you again, Kan, that's two days now that you've taken care of me. You're a good friend. Thanks for the lift, Dave." I make shooing motions as they hesitantly rise and walk away, "I'll be fine, now go, I do not need company in my convalescence!" Dave turns the lights low as he closes the door, "Details later?" I nod. The door closes. I nibble on a cookie and down a few sips of the milk. I think it's milk. Maybe today wouldn't be a bad day laze about. It's not like we are on a three year journey on a meteor speeding through the void or anything. Placing the tray to the side of my bed despite the protest of my much-abused arms, I snuggle deeper into my pillows and close my eyes. Just to rest them for a moment. I begin to mull over my disappointment in not having time to convince Kanaya of the merits of my plans for Gamzee...


	8. Chapter 8

In my dream, I am back on LOLAR, a soft patter of precipitation beating against my windows. I am well aware of the fact that I am in a dream bubble, so I ignore the solicitation of another player through Pesterchum. I think it's Dave. I'm too tired and sore to talk to anyone. Hobbling my way out through the door and onto the beach, I marvel at the rainbow-colored clouds and bright sky. How I've missed sunlight! I sprawl on my back onto the sand without a second thought for my dream dress. Both the sun and rain drench my piteous form equally before I hear footsteps behind me in the stand. "Rude. You're going to ignore the most engaging conversation in your life with the most eligible bachelor ever to sit out on a rainy beach and stare at clouds? What if this was the conversation that told you how to solve the game? Or, you know, whatever other important crap we might need to be reminded of." Dave plops down next to me in the sand, doodling in it with his finger. He has his black suit on, I'll have to tell him it's quite flattering. Perhaps Terezi would enjoy licking it. I smile smugly.

"I knew you were coming anyway. A handsome prince can never stray far from a damsel in distress. Would you do me a favor?" He stops doodling to let out an exasperated sigh, "Yeah yeah, I'll be your obedient dog. Just don't be too rough with the collar. I'm fragile like a peach. What do you want?" His exaggerations never cease to be amusing. "Be a good boy and go into my room? I need to know the location of my psychology books. I'm going to require their use later." Without moving a muscle, the air shimmers beside him, and an alternate Dave steps out, wearing a green suit. "Second shelf, five books over. You have three. And a bunch of other creepy ass shit. Maybe you should get a hobby." Alpha Dave gives him a thumbs up, and the other rockets off to his next destination. "Convenient. Does he always do that for you?" Dave lolls out beside me, face staring skyward, "Naw. He just likes to show me up sometimes." I roll my eyes, "Only you would be competitive with yourself, Dave. It says a great deal about your insecurities that you do." He glares at me from under his glasses, "Oh hell no."

I make an innocent face, "What?" He turns his face to stare at the clouds, "You are not pulling that psychobabble bullshit on me right now. Just, no. I don't want your nasty mind tentacles all up in my virginal brain makin it blush and shit." My lips quirk into a smile, "I wouldn't dream of fulfilling your Freudian-fueled tentacle mind-rape fantasies." He cringes, ever so slightly, "Augh, no. ANYWAY, isn't there some Vision shit you have to tell me about? The books part of the plan?" I decide to let this one go, perhaps he can be the first I convince about my theory. "Yes. I believe it is necessary to heal the mind of the Bard of Rage. I have Seen that we will need a character whose actions are unpredictable. I would prefer that those unpredictable actions are not directed against us, hence the psychology and psychiatry books." Dave gives me a skeptical look over his shades, "You mean that half-baked juggalo? That asshole factory is serious trouble, girl. Terezi told me what happened." I glare at him, "No thanks to your input. If you hadn't foolishly shown him that ridiculous clown rap band, he would not have done a flying pirouette off the handle."

Dave's shoulders hunch in chagrin, but his face remains neutral. Sore point. "Regardless of your shenanigans, I think the same result would have occurred eventually. He has had a great deal of upheaval in the last few years, and from conversations previous, he was not all that stable to begin with. I can only hope that with a regimen of psychoanalysis he may recover enough to not present a danger to everyone on this ship, as well as contribute in a positive manner to the outcome of our struggles against Lord English. We need him." Dave's shoulders take on a less defensive angle, but I can still see he's not pleased. "Yeah? What if he goes off and decides to start another gogdamn corpse party while you are pickin at his brain? If he's so gogdamn unpredictable, would you even be able to see that coming?"

I smile at him, "Aw, Dave. I didn't know you cared. I'm quite sure I would be alerted either by the horrorterrors or a Vision if he were to choose a path of violence towards myself or the others. However, as a precaution, Karkat is going to sit in on his sessions until I think he is well enough to continue on his own." He pushes at my shoulder and huffs, "Well, someone has got to look out for his ecto-sister. Can't have my fine genes destroyed by a fake-ass psycho clown, might rip a hole in paradox space for being just that wrong. A swirling vortex of wrong, breeding chaos wherever it goes. Spouting wrong on anyone who gets in its way. Just a straight up wrong festival up in there." He pauses for a second, " Anyway, what's with their relationship? Is Karkles like a shouty little straight-jacket for that shambling giant?" I arch my eyebrow at my "ecto-brother" (ugh, weird.) "A vortex of wrong spouting wrongness? Freud swoons from the grave!"

Dave rolls his eyes, placing his hands behind his head, "Yes, clearly the vortex is nothing more than my imagination screaming about flying sky dongs. Way to avoid the question." I roll on my stomach to sift sand through my fingers. "A shouty straight-jacket is actually quite accurate. It seems a Moirail acts as a force to subvert the darker impulses of a troll within that type of relationship. Troll romance is still a bit strange to me, but I suppose it is fortunate that Karkat has taken on that role. Other than acting as a buffer between Gamzee and his urge to harm others, I don't know what else a moirailship entails." Dave chuckles and waggles his eyebrows, "Heh, mwah-rail." I flick sand at him with a smirk. "Keep your dirty mind to yourself." He raises his hands in mock defense, "Nah, girl, you got me all wrong! My mind's so squeaky clean it's sparkly as all hell. Could eat a dinner off that shit, take it home to mother and introduce it as your new boyfriend. Your momma would swoon with how right and proper my brain is. Ain't no shame in my mind, woman!" I break down laughing.

"So you Saw some shit and you think he's our best option?" His honest face brings me up short. "I wouldn't say he is our only option, but if he is well we are more likely to succeed. You may also be overjoyed to hear that Kanaya and I will no longer laboriously document our activities any longer. I fear that somehow our new foe has found a way to access this knowledge, and any further writing would only provide him with more ammunition against us." Dave jumps to his feet, or the equivalent of such with an infinitesimal raising of his eyebrows, gog forbid he express emotion, "Holy Fucking Shit! You mean you won't be asking me a million gogdamn questions about what I did on Lohac and why? Where do I sign up to kiss the clown?" The world around us flickers in a tell-tale way. The dream bubble is ending soon. I glance at the sky ruefully. I wish there was a way to take some of this light with me. "You'd have to ask Karkat about that. But since you served as part of his breakdown, I would request you leave him be for a time." Dave's reply is cut off by the cessation of the bubble. I turn fitfully, waiting for the sound of the rain to recede. It doesn't. I also hear the faintest sound of snuffling, the kind of sound one makes after crying for an extended period of time. I bolt upright in remembrance of my promise to Karkat, wincing painfully as I turn to look at the door of my bathroom. I pray that I won't see a naked troll. I am so not in the mood for a lesson in xenobiology.

I spy a mass of hair and two long curling horns cradling themselves on lanky, dirty, thankfully pant wearing knees. A hiccup and snuffle confirm that it is, in fact, Gamzee, and he's crying. I do not hear or see Karkat anywhere, putting me on edge. Innocent as he may seem, he's still dangerous. I gingerly swing my knees over the bed, wincing again as my feet hit the floor. Obviously the boy needs comfort, but I don't know if I should be the one doing it. Another piteous peal of sobbing punctuated by honks decides for me. I decaptalouge my knitting needles and stick them in my belt before I float cautiously to him, because fuck walking. I land in a kneel in front of his feet. "Gamzee? Are you well? What's happened?" I press a handkerchief into one of the hands clutching at his knees, which he accepts. His hand disappears under his mop of hair, and I hear the distinct noises of nasal passages being cleared. Ew. His head tilts up slightly, just enough for me to see his eyes, indigo from crying, and the tip of his nose. His paint is a hot mess, smeared this way and that from swiping at his eyes and nose. I ache to reach out and pat his hair, but I don't want to offend him.

He blurts, "You think I'm a-a- MOTHER-FUCKIN MONSTER!" His voice hitches as he releases a new torrent of tears and hides his face again. Welp. Shit. He must have heard my conversation with Dave. I speak in the most soothing voice possible, "No, no, of course not. I would never think that. You're an alien." He honks a weak heh while I continue. "I will admit that if someone told me five years ago that I would be on a meteor hurdling through space psychoanalyzing a troll alien, I'd be a bit dubious. I take it you heard Dave and I?" His eyes peek up through his dirty hair again as he giggles and nods. "When I said you were a danger to everyone, I meant that. You need help, and that is what I am here for. If we leave your current emotional status untreated, it could become worse. I do not mean for you to think you're an awful monster. You've lost control of yourself, and that is okay. It happens to everyone at one point or another, in varying degrees." He wails again, "But they don't kill their motherfucking fr-freinds!" Damn protocol to hell! I wriggle my way next to him and put an arm around his shoulder as his latest torrent of tears ebb. He leans into me heavily, still sniffling. Dammit he's a behemoth.

I shift to make myself more comfortable before speaking. "You were sick, Gamzee. You were not in control of yourself. We are going to fix this. I have Seen it. You will absolutely be instrumental in the outcome of our future." He snuffles again, honking out another long blast on the handkerchief. As he puts his arm down I become acutely aware of the fact that he is not wearing a shirt. The cool flesh of his shoulders gives my arm goosebumps, for more than one reason. I suddenly feel very awkward, which isn't helped by the rumbling vibration I can both feel and hear against my side as he leans his head back on the wall. This is stupid. He's a patient! I see his eyes are closed, so I chance a glance at his chest. He is surprisingly muscular, despite what impression his fashion sense may fool one into thinking. His six-pack rises and falls with a hypnotizing regularity as his breathing slowly returns to normal. There is a silence in the room, and I realize that Gamzee had asked me a question while I was openly gawking at him.

I suppress my body's natural urge to blush furiously as I look back to Gamzee's face. He has one eye open, his eyebrow arched. His face breaks into a smoldering, knowing smile, "It's easier to take a motherfucking picture, mamacita." OHMYGOGal;dkfjsadf;kjasdlf. Note to self: Look up pictures of Channing Tatum when I have the opportunity. PATIENT! PATIENT! I choose to ignore his comment, instead standing up, dusting off my knees and offering my hand to help him up as well. Standing at his full height, without the slightest bit of hunching or scrunching himself into a smaller stance, he repeats his question, wow he's tall, "You really got your Vision all up and knowing I'ma get better? No fooling?" I distance myself from his mildly overwhelming physicality and respond. "Yes, Mr. Makara. I am a Seer of Light, I feel no need to lie or lead others on. Your mental health is instrumental in our future success." I really hope my professional voice smooths over my mild gaffe. He doesn't indicate disappointment at my distance, instead smiling widely. "So a motherfucker is all important and shit? Well, fuck, I better get my clean on, then! Thanks Rosesis!" I'm not quite sure, but I think he struts and wiggles his butt a bit as he walks into the bathroom. It could just be a weird way of walking. Don't think about his butt. Stop thinking about it! The door to the bathroom opens quickly and a shirt and polka-dotted pants come flying out, slamming shut quickly after. Muted honking laughter tells me it was not, in fact, a strange way of walking. Note to self, still no personal boundaries.


	9. Chapter 9

Karkat returns to the room while I attempt to appearify my psychology books from some point after my entrance to Sburb. Probably directly before or after my Grimdark episode would be best. I hadn't been thinking much about psychology at the time. I didn't hear his feet come to an abrupt halt, but I did hear something akin to a "Gak!" and then a rushed charge over to the bathroom door. "YOU SHAMBLING BUFFOON! PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS CLOTHED AND HOLY, TELL ME YOU DID NOT PRANCE AROUND THIS ROOM WITH YOUR SHAME GLOBES VISIBLE TO ALL THOSE WHO WOULD NEED TO IMMEDIATELY SCRUB THEIR EYES WITH LAVA!?" He turns his panicked face to me, his cheeks burning a bright red. "OHMYGOGIAMSOSORRY Kanaya TOLD ME WHAT HAPPENED AND I FIGURED YOU WOULD SLEEP THE WHOLE TIME, I DIDN'T KNOW THAT FLYING FUCKTARD WOULD TAKE HIS CLOTHES OFF IN FRONT OF YOU ARE YOU OKAY?!" He panted, taking a whooping deep breath. It amazes me still that he talks just like he types sometimes.

"HELLO!? OH MY GOG DID HIS BONE BULGE MAKE YOU RETARDED? LOOK WHAT YOU DID GAMZEE! SHE NO LONGER HAS MENTAL FACULTIES LEFT! GOG DAMN IT YOU GIANT SHIT MOUNTAIN!" I burst into laughter, "SEE! NOTHING LEFT! GOOD JOB YOU BEHEMOTH OF A SWIMBEAST TURD!" Collecting myself I finally wheeze out, "No, Karkat, he undressed in the bathroom, er, ablution block. I think he tossed these out so you could make him new ones?" His hyperventilation slowed, eying the neatly folded shirt and pants. "Yeah, I guess that was the plan...what the hell is he going to wear while he waits? I imagine you don't want to set fire to your furniture after his unburnished gluteals sit in them." I hadn't thought...yeah. Don't want naked troll ass on my bed, at least not right now. Gogdamnit brain! Stop thinking like that! A stubborn tingle tickles my nethers. Gah. Willing the image from my mind, I muse out loud, "Unfortunately all I have to offer are my own clothes. I think I have a skirt long enough, and maybe a stretchy tank-top. We can try to appearify something of his, if you like." Karkat takes a few more calming breaths before he speaks again, "So, your eyes were not assaulted by that giant purple chucklehead's nude flesh?" I force down a blush, glad he can't hear my thoughts, "No, Karkat. My eyes are as virginal as the day I was born." My mind isn't. He relaxes visibly. "Sorry. He does that, so I had to ask. Are you still going to treat him?" It's cute how concerned he is.

"Yes, there is no need to worry." I reassure him. He sits at the table where the offending shirt and pants have been laid out. "I've tried to appearify clean clothes for him, but all I get is goo. I've been afraid to use any of the alchemizers in the lab because someone might figure out what I'm doing." I nod, "Do you have anything that may fit him?" He lets out a hoarse cough of a laugh, "Hardly, he looks like he's trying to be a model for a musclebeast painting in my clothes." I hem and haw. Quite the predicament. Karkat is taller than me, but not as tall as him. Dave is almost the same height, but I doubt that would end well. Terezi is shorter than I, Kan hates him, so..., "Very well then. Give him one of your shirts, and I shall give him the longest skirt I have. It will have to do for a few hours. I shall escort you to the nearest alchemiter and if anyone asks I'll explain." He scratches behind his nubby horn, "I guess. Sure. I've got one in my sylladex." He places it on the table, it really does look two sizes too small. I walk over to the wardrobifier and open it, damn thing's been malfunctioning since the rip in paradox space. The longest skirt I have...hmm. I hear the water turning off in the bathroom, and quickly grab a swooshy eyelet skirt Kanaya made. It's about three inches too long, hopefully that would help. I turn to him, "Karkat, could you..." With a groan he takes his shirt and my skirt and goes to the bathroom.

"LISTEN UP YOU GIANT FUCKWAD! ROSE AND I ARE GOING TO GET YOU NEW CLOTHES. UNTIL THEN, I FUCKING ORDER YOU TO PUT ON MY SHIRT AND THIS SKIRT. STAY HERE AND WAIT. HIDE IF SOMEONE COMES." Gamzee begins to interrupt with a whine before Karkat cuts him off, "NO COMPLAINING, YOUR CLOTHES ARE GOING TO BE SET ON FIRE AND OFFERED TO THE DIRTY LAUNDRY GODS, SO WE SHALL NOT FEAR THEIR WRATH. THEN THE ASHES WILL BE SHOT INTO SPACE FOR THE GOOD OF ALL TROLLKIND. COULD YOU PLEASE HAVE THE DECENCY TO AT LEAST COVER YOURSELF WITH A TERRYCLOTH MOISTURE REMOVER?!" I hear muffled laughter again, "Hahaha, sorry bro. Thanks. Those clothes were getting pretty rudenasty, now that I think about it. Thanks for tryin to make me so pretty!" Karkat squawks as he is pulled into, I can only assume, a naked hug. Stop thinking of Gamzee naked! Bad brain! "LET GO OF ME THIS INSTANT YOU TOWERING FUCKUP!" I keep my back resolutely turned while I await Karkat's skittering escape from the bathroom. The back of his shirt is wet. I shake violently with a silent giggle to avoid his ire. "Are we quite ready, Mr. Vantas?" He mumbles something under his breath that sounds distinctly like "asshole" as he grabs the offending clothing and strides over to his shoes, violently shoving his feet in. He fluidly speeds out of the door. I hurry to follow behind.

"I still don't think it's a good idea to make his clothes where everyone can see them. He's not ready to see the others yet." I shrug in agreement, and he steers us further into the meteor than I have ever gone. It feels a bit claustrophobic, with the moisture on the pipes above us pattering down in steady drips. "Where exactly on the meteor are we, Karkat? I cannot say I've traversed these halls before." He keeps moving forward, speaking brusquely, "We're pretty much at the core. Most of the equipment down here doesn't work anymore." Okay. Rude. We step into what is more or less a cavern, or at least a hollow, in the center of the meteor. Newly alchemized equipment stands in the center of the room. The echoes of the room follow our footsteps with a mournful boom-oboooum. Quite eerie, really. "I take it this is where you've been hiding Gamzee? Or are you just going to bury me here under a rock somewhere?" His face sours. "Very funny. Fucking laugh a minute with you. Jegus. I wouldn't show anyone where that honking asshole hides anyway."

I guess he still doesn't trust me. I wave away the unspoken accusation that I would reveal his moirail's location, "So how are we going to make clean clothes, anyway? If we copy what he has here, will it remain dirty?" He doesn't look pleased with my response, but he turns to the machines anyway. "I don't know. It's the first time I've been able to get him out of these fucking disgusting rags in two years." What? He stomps the rest of the way over to our destination, echoes reverberating in his wake. If he hasn't been able to get him out of his clothes, "How much physical contact have you two had over the last few years? Is that not part of a proper moirailship?" I stop beside him, pressing for information. "Has it been that much of a struggle to keep him in line?" He stares intently at the buttons before him, captchaloging his clothes, reading the codes, and placing them in the alchemeter. He won't say a word. New clothes appear in a flash of florescence. As he grabs the newly made cloth, realization hits me as hard as the stiff set of his shoulders and the knife of a scowl on his face. This is dangerous territory.

"Karkat, you can't think...I, ahm...hmm. He's a patient, Kar. I'm not interested in him." Yeah. I'll keep telling myself that. Before the hatred bubbles to the surface, I can see a vibration from the tips of his toes to his face. It contorts into a mask of rage before he spits out, "OF COURSE I'M FUCKING JEALOUS! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! YOU'VE TALKED TO HIM, WHAT, TWICE? IT'S THE FIRST TIME IN TWO GOGDAMN YEARS HE'S EVEN ACTED CLOSE TO NORMAL! THE ONLY TIME I CAN GET NEAR HIM IS WHEN HE'S A DANGER TO OTHERS, WHICH, BY THE MERRY FUCKING WAY, IS PRETTY MUCH ALL THE GOGDAMN TIME! I HAVEN'T SLEPT OR KEPT NORMAL HOURS SINCE THE "INCIDENT" MAKING SURE THAT GARGANTUAN FREAK SHOW DOESN'T EAT EVERYONE ON THIS SHIP, AND YOU LA-DI-DA YOUR WAY INTO HIS LIFE AND HE. FUCKING. SMILES. FOR. THE. FIRST. TIME. IN. TWO. YEARS." This kid is a volcano of self hatred! Note to self: Get Karkles on the therapy bandwagon. In a flash, he's in my face, not quite shoving me, but awfully close.

"IT'S MY JOB TO KEEP HIM IN LINE, IT'S MY JOB TO KEEP HIM HAPPY. I PITY THAT MOTHERFUCKER SO GOGDAMN HARD IT HURTS TO LOOK AT HIM. HE'S THE FUCKING SUN TO ME." He starts to lose steam at this point, his voice cracking in a whisper, "He's...the only quadrant I have." The room echoes his last words, over and over, like a mother soothing a child. He looks at the new clothes in his hand, "Still fucking dirty," dropping them to the floor. They make a dust cloud as they settle. Ew. I can't say I'm surprised at his outburst, but I thought it would take longer. He slumps to the floor against the lathe, grumbling under his breath. I'm pretty sure I hear "humans" and "asshole factory." Guilt washes over me, dirty and brackish like baywater. I hate making him so insecure, I can't help it that trolls are so damn weird about EVERYTHING. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "Karkat, please, look at me." He begrudgingly raises his head, "I will explain this to you one time, and one time only. Make sure you burn it into your memory, or I will do it for you with the needles of Oglgoth, I swear to Gog."

His eyes widen infinitesimally, but he doesn't make a sound as I speak in even, reassuring, tones. "I am not interested in becoming Gamzee's moirail. I never will be. I will not, under any circumstances, attempt to disrupt, disband, or undermine your relationship with him. You have been the glue holding him together for two years, and I know that must be exhausting. I fully believe what you two have together can only improve with therapy. If he is no longer agitated, perhaps he can participate in the more common patterns of moirailship, though I'll admit I don't entirely know what that is." I hold a finger up to stop him from launching into explanation as I continue. " I am very sorry if any of my attempts to be polite or helpful so far have been misconstrued by either him or you. My only goal is to heal his mind. He will be absolutely instrumental to the outcome of our final session, and we need him to act with a rational mind."

Karkat growls, "What about the others?" Rubbing my hand on my temple in frustration, I reply in kind, "I intend to gather the others to debrief them on my mission, they need to get used to the idea of his return. I will explain that he cannot be harmed. He's too important. In our very near future, a battle with a nearly omnipotent, time-traveling demon will come to pass. Our only saving grace is unpredictability. As the Bard of Rage, Gamzee's very defining characteristic is that his actions CANNOT BE PREDICTED. In short, we are doomed without him." He harrumphs and glares at me. Oh, for pity's sake, "And lastly, will you PLEASE stop throwing a hissy fit every time I pat his shoulder. It's therapy, not a make out session, you fruity rumpus asshole factory!" I finally see the ghost of a smile on Karkat's lips. "Now get up so we can make some clothes for that hulking mammoth of a troll."


	10. Chapter 10

It takes some trial and error, but Karkat and I finally come up with a reasonably wearable wardrobe for Gamzee. By combining his shirt, a swatch from Karkat's, and some black fabric (uh, heh, silk) laying about in my sylladex, but we came up with a polka-dotted suit, two shirt and pant sets very similar to the original, two tank-tops, two pair of shorts, and several pairs of shoes. I look at Karkat quizzically, not really wanting to ask the next question. "Aren't we, missing something from this wardrobe?" He frowns in consternation, looking over his inventory, "No? Everything's here." I pinch the bridge of my nose, mostly from embarrassment, "Well, I was thinking of, socks...and things that go...under...clothes." Didn't I just get myself out of hot water with him?! I brace for his acerbic outburst with a wince, but am instead treated to a braying laugh. "HAHAHAHA! Are you kidding me?! I could never get that clownshoes dumbass to wear clothing protectors! It's a chore just to convince him to dress in the morning! I swear to Gog it's like he was raised by feral woofbeasts." Crisis averted. Lovely.

The trip back to my room is much more companionable than the trip from. Karkat even cracks a joke that isn't laced with epithets, "Why did the peep beast cross the road?" With a wan smile I reply, "Why?" He shakes with laughter, "To avoid the culling forks!" He breaks out into a gale of mirth, and I titter weakly beside him. I have no idea why the joke is so funny. But it isn't the only reason that my laugh is weak. The fever Kanyana mentioned earlier re-asserts itself with a vengeance. An inferno boils under my skin, making my knees shake. The cut on my head actually feels cool and cold, but the rest of my body is aching with pain from my earlier contusions. Panting, I wrap my arms around my simultaneously icy and flaming body, trying to still the shakes. Karkat notices my slower pace, "Oh My Gog! My past self has been dragging you all over the meteor after what happened this morning! What an inconsiderate douche canoe! Are you all right?" His denial of the connection between his past and present self is funnier than his peep beast joke. I want to tell him I'm fine, but my vision begins to blur and spot and my legs wobble dangerously. I want to make my way out of the humid corridor and before it's gross clingy fingers drag me into the dark abyss behind my eyes. Time slows, Karkat's voice falls away to an unintelligible murmur, I pitch forward.

Pure, indeterminable, blackness. I hear laughing off in the distance, and see a rainbow of colors as they whiz by at a dizzying speed. Then nothing. It makes my heart ache with an unknown loss. Rising to the surface, I whimper when my mind snaps into reality. My eyes refuse to open. An oppressive heat swamps my face and front, but strangely I feel a firm coolness behind me. A band of cool drapes my middle. Sinking into it with a boneless sigh, I luxuriate in its glorious chill. I turn my cheek so it touches the life-giving ice-pack behind my body. A thrumming purr of a cat motors away above my head. But, it's not quite above, more like, underneath? I can feel the vibration of it in my cheek. I must be sick. The only time Mother ever lets me sleep in with Jaspers is when I'm sick.

I reach out above me, seeking the source of the purring. Fur pushes and nudges into my hand, the thrum beneath (around?) me growing louder. Jaspers. I sigh his name as I stroke the fur, noting that it's gotten too long again. I'll have to give him a trim when I get better. Flashbacks of Sburb filter through my mind. John's house disappearing into the medium, Bec Noir, my mother, oh gog! My mother! I never said, we never...! I'm so sorry! Guilt and pain flash through me, more painful than the fever and aches. I stir fitfully, trying to sit up. My eyelids feel like they are glued shut, then weighed down with anvils. I'm too tired. The cooling bandage around my waist tightens while Jaspers makes a noise of discontent. I settle back with an irritated sigh. Was all of it a dream? A fevered delirium? It's just a dream. It never happened. I can apologize about our last argument when the fever breaks, set things right, finally. I begin fiddling with Jasper's fur again as I wonder how long I've been asleep, searching for his ear so I can scratch behind it.

I turn my face to the right to cool it. I successfully locate his ear and rub behind it in swirls, his purr takes on a deep and unfamiliar keen. Even his ear...feels..strange, longer than it should be, and much fleshier. I contemplate more of my delirious dreams of Sburb, the suicide mission to create the green sun, the arrival of our traveling companions, the trolls. OH GOG IN HEAVEN THE TROLLS! My eyes snap awake as the awkward realization sets in. I painfully push myself up and away from my place of rest. I roll and stand, waveringly, on my feet, needles of Oglgoth at hand. "WHAT THE FRESH HELL IS THIS?!" I scream, glaring down at a startled, shirtless Gamzee sprawled out on my bed, and an abashed Karkat sitting next to him in my lounge-chair. I realize I'm wearing only a tank-top and sleeping shorts. Who the hell dressed me?! I demand an answer to my question, but my body will withstand no more. The fever spikes painfully deep in my veins once the last ounce of coolness leeches away from my core. I crumple like a rag doll, falling back on my haunches.

I don't know if what I'm seeing is even real. I must be hallucinating. There are no monsters in my room. I READ about monsters, I do not SEE them. Both rise from their sitting positions, rushing to assist me from the floor, or eat me, I don't know. This is one hell of a lucid nightmare. I scramble backwards, threatening them with my knitting needles. Are they magic? Yes. Yes, they are. My back slams against the bathroom door. Mother must have finished the renovations to the house! I scrabble upwards, brandishing my needles and screeching that I am a "FURIOUS WIZARD" and to not "FUCK WITH ME." The door opens with a welcoming woosh. I tumble backwards, landing painfully on my butt. I quickly kick the door shut and lock it. I hear banging, but I know it's just the fever. It is an absolute fact that everything I saw in that room isn't real. I crawl on my hands and knees to the shower, turning it on to the coolest setting I can stand. Not even bothering to undress, I climb into the stall and lay prostrate in it's welcoming frostiness. Darkness overtakes me again as I think I hear the wood doorjamb splintering and shouts of concern. Active imagination today.


	11. Chapter 11

I awake to the obscenely loud sound of my brother laughing. "Furious wizard? You've got to be shitting me, man. What the hell did you do to her down in the catacombs?" Karkat growls impatiently, "I didn't fucking do anything, you feces-flinging ape. She was delirious with fever. Who knows what the hell she saw." I groan gutturally. I'm so stiff. And wet. And chargrined. A warm hand touches my forehead, "It feels like the fever broke." I recognize the voice next to my head as Dave's. I groan and throw my arm over my eyes. "Chill, Rose, don't be pulling your furious wizard wands out on me now!" Sighing piteously I whimper, "I really said that, didn't I?" I hear Dave's smile, "Yep. And I'm never going to let you live it down. Think you can get out of the shower yourself?" I shake my head in a negative. "No. I'm never getting out of this stall again. In fact, I formally request that you immolate me here. May the crimes of my fever-impassioned brain be cleansed by fire in repentance." He slicks back my hair,"No can do, ecto-sister. Your ass is stuck on this meteor for the duration." Dave turns the water off, hauls me out, and wraps me in a huge towel. I lean my head on his shoulder and mutter, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you've taken a shine to carrying me around, Mr. Strider. Our love is a forbidden one, never to be spoken!" Dave snorts, "You wish you had the skills to lure a fine fox like me. I ain't into keeping it in the genes anyhow. Our babies would be horrendous." I can feel Karkat's ire rising before he speaks, "Hooray! The incestuous ass grabbery is over! Now if one of you would be so kind to tell me WHETHER OR NOT ROSE IS GOING TO LIVE?!" I resist the urge to pat Karkat's head as Dave passes him en route to my bed.

"I believe if I refrain from falling at every opportunity I get, I should healed by tomorrow. Where is our mountain of a troll?" Karkat's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. What?! What did I say now?! They are so damn weird about EVERYTHING, "I had to shoosh and pap his ass all the way back to his hidey hole. He kept trying to take you out of the ablution block, and I wasn't sure how to deal with your fever. It strangles my protein chute with bile to admit it, but I had to ask this prince of pachyderm dung for advice. He IS the only other human on the ship. I am pleased to inform you, however, that I am now the master of human physiology, having read every text available on the subject." His chest puffs out with pride at the statement, and I raise my eyebrow to Dave. "WebMD." he whispers conspiratorially in my ear. I giggle.

Looking a little deflated, Karkat grumbles, "Not like you'd thank me or anything, but you're welcome." I take pity on my nubby-horned friend, "Thank you, Karkat. I am sorry if I have caused you trouble, and I lay prostrate, metaphorically, at your feet in gratitude." Looking what I can only call less angry than usual, he nods and grunts a final, "welcome" before striding out of the room. "That boy needs a girlfriend like a man in a desert needs a bottle of water." Dave states, deadpan. I nod in vigorously in agreement. "I'm pretty sure the fever's gone, but I'm gonna give you Tylenol and soup just in case." The air shivers beside him, and another Dave enters the room with the promised capsules and victuals in tow. The other disappears in the same time shiver. I shake my head, grinning, "Showoff." "Only for you, sis. Think you can park that genetically superior ass in your bed for the rest of the day?" Dave asks archly. I can't resist,"And just why is my posterior superior?" "Because it's related to me, duh. Now answer. Can. You. Stay. In. Bed? I WILL stay here all day regaling you with stories of Can Town and the Mayor if you don't." I gulp down the sip of soup I was taking in haste, "No! That's...quite all right. Can Town is awesome, and the Mayor rules with a gentle iron fist. And that is all that needs to be said on the matter. If you could just get me a dry set of clothes and my psychology books, I would appreciate it. I shall not stir for love or money." He stands, appraising me with a satisfied eye, and walks over to the wardrobifier to pull out a clean outfit. I cringe at the idea of him rooting about in my underwear drawer, but I don't have a choice. I really don't want to hear about Can Town. "Really, frills, LaLonde?" he calls out as I bury my face in a pillow and scream.

Kanaya visits me after a few hours, standing awkwardly at the door until I wave her in. I close my second psychology book (thank the horrorterrors of the Void for my God Tier powers. Reading goes by so quickly!) and state, "You're bothered by something. What is it?" She flushes from head to toe, "I wanted to express my sorrow for causing you so much pain earlier today! It was unethical of me to drink from you, since I did not know the outcome of my actions."She hovers at the edge of the bed apologetically, tapping my bedpost with nervous fingers. I smile gently in return, "I am fine, Kanaya. What you did was out of kindness, and I am grateful regardless of the consequences. I have never been bitten by a vampire before, so I didn't really know how I would react, either." She titters at my wry joke, sitting stiffly on the end of my bed. She inhales deeply, nose wrinkling in distaste. "So it is true, then, what Karkat and Strider have told me. The clown has been here?" I would motion for her to sit next to me, but trolls are finicky about such things. I wish there was an easier way to tell her what I've seen.

"Yes." I say quietly. "What else have they told you?" Her brow furrows in suppressed anger, " Karkat has informed me that you will be treating Gamzee's psychosis. I must admit that I disapprove of any interaction with him, but I cannot argue with the logic of the Seer of Light. You have truly Seen his importance in the influence of future events?" I huff out a sigh, hugging my knees. "Yes, unpalatable as you may find it, I have. I will not attempt to compel you to speak to him, or even face him if that is not your choice. But I beg you to consider his state of mind at the time of his breakdown. He had a major break from reality, withdraw from an addictive substance, and the ever-present threat of death in the form of Jack Noir. To add further stress, he has been plagued with anger, anxiety, and self-worth issues for a majority of his life-span. To put it simply, he was not in his right mind." I await Kanaya's response nervously, covertly worrying the inside of my bottom lip. After an indeterminable amount of time, she nods, as if my speech confirms an unpleasant truth.

"I see. I will not oppose your plans. I will also choose not to approve them until I see that Gamzee has made progress with your human psychoanalysis." (Bluh.) I want to ease her discomfit with the situation, but there is not much I can do about the matter until I actually have an opportunity to work with him. "I am sorry, Kan. I know it is difficult to forgive someone who has so grossly betrayed your trust. I hope this will not damage our friendship?" She gives me a genuine smile, "No, it certainly shall not. Should you find yourself having difficulty treating him, I would be glad to discuss it with you." I relax back into my pillows. "Thank you, Kanaya." She walks to the headboard, fussing with my pillows, " It will not do for you to stay up all night reading, you must rest if you wish to get better!" I grin as she looks down at me, "Of course you're right. I'll pop off to sleep in but a moment." She reaches down, brushing my hair from my forehead. With surprise I realize that she is checking my temperature. "Your fever did indeed break as Strider has indicated. I shall have to thank him." she quickly withdraws her hand and, for lack of a better word, struts out of the room. I wonder what has given her such a boost in confidence. Wait, why does she have to thank Dave? Gah. Read about psychology.


	12. Chapter 12

I read late into the night, without interruption, for once. I've always been a bit of a night owl. Dave finally figured out how to make MP3 players, so I am blissfully listening to John Coltrain's "Cousin Mary" when my doorway is darkened again. The player transitions to "Namia," and I pause momentarily, drinking in the bittersweet memories that it brings back to me. Something about the song always makes me think of a snow day. It reminds me of some of the happiest times I spent as a child, walking aimlessly in snow covered woods with my cat trailing behind me, mewing to be picked up. I sigh, wondering if I will ever feel snowfall again, or enjoy hot cocoa after walking out in it for hours at a time. I squeeze my eyes shut to sharpen the visions of home in my head. The darkness of the meteor presses in on me as the song comes to an end, and I push the thoughts of snow and home away ruefully. A playful pop song comes on, "She Says" (remixed by Wahoos) and I lose myself to the rhythm. It's a relief, really, not to be reminded of anything, to just let go and sway like I don't have a care in the world. I figure no-one could possibly be up this hour, so I get up to dance. With my eyes still closed, I sway and spin. I really don't care that I look like an idiot, I just need to let off some steam. I'm not nearly as stiff as I was a few short hours ago, thank the gogs. I have to admit being a God Tier has it's perks. I smile to myself. Unbeknownst to me, my shadow disappears with a pleased honk.

The next few days are uneventful, compiling lists of potential strategies with Terezi, having coffee and girl-talk with Kanaya. Since we don't really need to write our tome, there is much less work to do in the research department. We still scour the library for any scrap of information, but we are starting to run out of ideas. Dave spends his days finding new ways to annoy Karkat, and he in turn expels blasphemies from his lips that would make the Troll Devil blush. Gamzee...is either off haunting the ship or honking somewhere in the ventilation ducts. I have no idea. I finally get around to speaking to everyone about my vision, and for the most part they accept it.

Terezi wasn't thrilled, but she admitted she had a similar vision herself. She sighs, adjusting her glasses subconsciously. "Blar, I can't stand him! I'm all for multiculturalism, but this is pushing it, and I still think he's dangerous. I wish I was kidding, but I'm really scared for our friends." I smile politely, "I understand. As I told Kan, you are not compelled to interact with him in any way if you do not wish to." Her tongue flicks out reflexively, as if testing the air like a snake. "I know. Dave and you have told me the same thing over and over. You two really are related! You taste like different flavors of cherry cotton candy and have annoying habits!" I shrug contritely. "Sorry." She brushes off the apology, "No big. Where is your candy-coated brother? I feel the most overwhelming of devious urges to create unholy monstrosities out of food." I laugh and point towards the airlock. He's been spending a great deal of time staring at the void lately. I think he misses home as much as I do. Terezi waves and bounces off after him. She's become a great expert at pulling Dave out of a funk, so I leave her to it.

I find myself drawn to the kitchen when I have nothing to do. I finished reading my psychology books ages ago, and I've alchemized all the natural remedies I could find for Gamzee's potential assorted problems. I tried time and again for actual psychiatric drugs, but every time I pulled them with the appearifier, I either got an empty bottle or a load of goo. Not to mention the fact I have no idea what type of reaction synthetic drugs may have with troll physiology. I hope tried and true herbal remedies work. They've worked for me over the years, so other than an adverse reaction, I'm confident they'll work. I can't really write down a plan for his therapy because that would be a big heads-up to our omnipotent rival. I feel anxious about our upcoming session. To distract myself, I start pulling out ingredients to make a strawberry tart, appearifing or alchemizing what I don't have on hand. I feel his fizzing anxious energy before he speaks. What does Karkles want now? A serious, 'this is relationship-related' voice barks out behind me, "Rose. We need to talk." Oh. That.

I had hoped to stave off the awkward, "We-saw-you-naked-and-you-pet-my-moirail-like-a-cat-while-he-cuddled-your-fevered-ass" talk until the end of paradox space, but I don't seem to have that kind of luck today. I pass him a bowl and a whisk, "Very well, you can help me bake." He makes a face as if to balk, but I interrupt him, "If you refuse, I simply shall not speak with you at this moment." He growls discontent but takes them. "So why do you seek my wisdom, Mr. Vantas?" I combine the flour, salt, and sugar into the bowl, dropping in the butter slowly as he mixeswith a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "Gamzee. I'm worried about him." I put the water and egg mix into the batter, waiting until it turned into a ball before signaling him to stop. "I had thought that was the purpose of tomorrow night's therapy?" I dust the bottom of the tart pan with flour and hand it to him, "Here, press that ball out into the pan until it reaches the top on all sides." He roughly pounds the innocent dough into the pan, "I know you're being purposely obtuse." It shocks me that he says it.

" I don't care how fucking uncomfortable it makes you, I don't want to talk about it either." He finishes the crust and I pop it in the oven. "He's...got ideas about how things are going to go down between you and him." I interrupt his ruminations, "I told you I am not seeking a moirailship with him, have I not made this abundantly clear?" I turn on the blender and beat the sour cream, cream cheese, and whipped cream furiously. I almost don't hear his next statement over the whirr of the whisking machine, "Not the quadrant I was talking about." I stop dead. Oh gog. not a Kimesis! He's no god tier, but I still fear I wouldn't last long against his attempts at aggression. The timer dings, providing me with the needed time to adjust my poker face. I take it out and place it on the counter, fanning it with my oven glove. I have at least ten minutes until I can pour the filling in, so I turn back to Karkat, folding my arms over my chest. I take a deep breath and prepare myself to ask the next question, "Could you please explain this quadrant nonsense again?" Two points for excellent evasion!

His speech takes long enough for me to pour in the cream cheese filling and place the strawberries. I'm not really paying attention, just letting his well practiced explanation fall over me like rain. I push over the raspberries and ask him to puree them with the food processor. He complies gladly, yammering on further about the merits of his system of romance over human romance. It's at that point that something strikes me.

"Wait, how long has this system been in place?" Karkat blinks at me, as if I'd grown another head. "Uh, at least since the beginning of the last Condescension's reign, why?" He slides over the pureed raspberries and I strain out the seeds with cheese cloth. "It is also around this same time that adult trolls were no longer allowed to stay on-planet?" He still isn't getting it. "Yes, well, almost. After the rebellion of the Summoner adult trolls were banned." I mix the sugar and cornstarch in with the puree, stirring contemplatively. I have to word this carefully. "Imagine, if you will, that you are an evil ruler, set on controlling everything about your constituent's lives. Including reproduction and relationships. In human society, there are three things that we need to function: food, shelter, and love. That love takes many forms, love for a parent or a child, love for a friend, and love for a sexual partner. These different varieties of love keep us, as humans, emotionally bonded, making us secure, confident, and mostly non-violent. Family units are essential to the human psyche. You are more likely to rebel against enormities committed against your society if you are fighting for those you love, especially your children or mate."

I know he doesn't comprehend the idea but I'm on a roll. I take the glaze off the oven to let it cool. "You'll notice Dave and I have not had the benefits of such familial love, which in turn has negative effects. It makes us callous, easily capable of violence, and insecure. Sound familiar?" Karkat shakes his head. This isn't going to go over well. "What if, in order to maintain complete control over her people and suppress rebellion, the Condesce had disbanded familial units, instituting the quadrant and lusii systems as a method of creating a society of socially insecure and violent trolls to fuel her war across the constellations? To make her people so confused about what a normal relationship is, that they are never capable of developing healthy relationships with any troll. Keep them busy juggling relationships with at least four others not not notice what she's doing? Force her people to be so dependent on these systems that they no longer know how to function otherwise?" It's so simple, yet so insidious. I pour the glaze over the tart and wait for his response.


	13. Chapter 13

The longer the silence drags on, the worse I know his reaction is. I turn to look at him. His face is flickering through so many emotions it's hard to follow them, anger, fear, rage, anxiety, sorrow. I can feel the black cloud of his soon to be spoken expletives hanging over his head. It pushes against my sight with twisting hatred. I hastily take the tart out of range and put it in the refrigerator. I don't think he'll be helping me with the dishes, I'll be lucky if he doesn't throw them. Finding his voice, he finally sputters, "WHAT. THE. FUCK. LALONDE. HAS THAT FEVER OF YOURS ADDLED YOUR BRAIN PERMANENTLY? I TRY TO EXPLAIN TO YOU THE FINER POINTS OF QUADRANT ROMANCE AND YOU SPEW OUT THIS IDIOTIC BULLSHIT ABOUT... ABOUT THE CONDESCE, FUCK HER RIGHT IN THE BUCKET, BY THE WAY, USING THE QUADRANTS AS A WAY OF KEEPING US TROLLS A BUCH OF SHAME-GLOBE GRABBING JACKASSES?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? ARE YOU FOR FUCKING REAL?" I try to speak up to further expound on my theory, but he refuses to let me speak, plowing on. "I HAVE NEVER ONCE SAID I, NOR ANY OTHER TROLL, WAS INSECURE. " BZZT! Bingo! Sore spot!Danger! Danger! Will Robinson!

"YES. WE ARE VIOLENT. IT IS OUR FUCKING NATURE. TURN ON TROLL NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC, YOU'LL SEE IT ALL THE TIME. YES. WE ARE CALLOUS, YOU TEND TO GET THAT WAY WHEN YOU ARE TRYING DESPERATELY TO SURVIVE ON A DANGEROUS AND VIOLENT PLANET! DON'T YOU FUCKING TELL ME THAT SHIT ISN'T REAL." Really he's only proving my point. "WE DON'T FUNCTION THE SAME AS YOU SOFT PINK MONKEYS! SO STOP TRYING TO FIT US INTO YOUR NEAT LITTLE PSYCHOANALYTICAL BOXES! I HAVE NEVER HEARD SOMETHING SO BUGFUCK INSANE IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK YOU. FUCK YOUR THERAPY. I DO NOT NEED YOUR BULLSHIT CARNIVAL ANTICS TO FIX GAMZEE. I'LL DO IT MYSELF. GO TO HUMAN HELL AND BURN WITH THE MIGHT OF A THOUSAND SUNS, LALONDE." Well, then.

He stops, struggling to control himself. He sighs, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck. "DO YOU HAVE ANY EVIDENCE, VISIONS OR OTHERWISE, TO SUPPORT WHAT YOU'VE JUST SAID?" I can see the toll it takes on him to ask. I know it would help my case, but.. "No, unfortunately not, Mr. Vantas. My ideas are pure conjecture. I will say that it's a very likely thing for a politically powerful figure to do, but I cannot prove it. I have yet to come across any communique that I could cite to support my claim. Also, as a Seer of Light, I only see the future, not the past." His cloud of ire returns, "GOOD. THEN I STATE, AS AN INCONTRAVERTIBLE FACT. THAT IS ETCHED ON THE VERY ATOMS OF MY SOUL, FUCK. YOU." He races past me, only barely avoiding a collision with a snarl. Gog only knows where. That could have gone better.

I blow a puff of air into my bangs as I watch his retreating form. I'm certain he's off to find Gamzee and do whatever "mwah-rails" do together. The therapy sessions will happen despite Karkat's opinion of my bugfuckery, I just don't happen to know when anymore. And what the hell does he mean 'how things will go down?' Belatedly, I feel a little shame in not letting Karkat explain himself, it's not his fault I run from emotions like a scalded cat. What emotions? There are no fucking emotions. Not about a homunculus of a troll who's so bleeding fragile... That's just fucked up. Tamping those thoughts down to my darkest depths, I quickly throw the dishes in the airlock, because, well, screw dishes. We can always alchemize more. John and Dave have a metric fuck-ton of grist. Once everything is wiped down and the kitchen is spotless again, I drift towards the computer room out of boredom. I have no idea where Kan is, and I don't feel like looking. I hear echoing laughter coming down the hallway, recognizing it as Terezi's. "Boom! Headshot!" she cackles. Dave answers with an anguished cry, "Gog damn it woman! I almost had the flag! SHOOT THE BAD GUYS NOT ME!" I...don't...even. How is she even playing a video game? I have to see this.

It's as weird as it sounded. They are playing collaboratively on two different screens, leaning back to back on beanbags. Terezi's tongue is running a mile a minute over the screen while she directs unnervingly accurate shots into the horde of Zerg accosting their characters. It's like she's making out with the computer. Gross. She glances my way, "Hey cotton candy lady! What's shaking? Dave is showing me how to kill Zerg, though it is clear they are a vastly superior race to the lowly human invaders!" Dave gives me a nod, "Sup. Woman, less talking, more licking." I snicker when Terezi shoots back, "Dirtiest thing you've ever said." They resume their game, animatedly talking around me, but not to. I'm actually glad to be ignored, and I drape myself between them on the excess of bean-chairs with a contented sigh. Maybe no-one with pressing emotional needs will find me here. I decaptalouge my mp3 player and headphones and put on some Clash.

I don't really sleep, just close my eyes and let my mind wander. I ruminate on the many ways I screwed up telling Karkat that his beloved quadrant theory might just be a way to keep trolls under the thumb of the Condesce. I may have just been as bad as Dave when he introduced the clown to ICP. Questioning one's deeply held beliefs is always difficult. Maybe I should have picked a better time to discuss it, but I didn't anticipate such a violent reaction. Bluh. I'm going to have to apologize. Again. For fucking up every time I open my mouth around trolls. I curl up and covertly snuggle closer to Dave. His smell has become comforting to me, I suppose, since the revelation that he is family. It reminds me of pine and Old Spice. He leans back on my stomach, head bonking Terezi and yelling about something related to "base" and "flags" now "fucking belong to Zerg" and "traitor!" She answers with a playful push and cackle. So cute. He looks down at me with a winning smile, ruffling my hair before turning back to his game. I wonder if this is what having a brother would have been like? I close my eyes again, allowing Daft Punk's "Digital Love" to wash away my thoughts.

Dave pokes me in the shoulder, I must have dozed. "Hey, we're going to hang out with the Mayor. You in?" I sit up, "Do I really look that pathetic, Dave? I do not need to be involved in you can-related mishaps." Terezi leans in over me, "Bluh bluh bluh, Rose, you know Can Town is where all the cool kids go! Come ooon, be a coolkid with us!" I take her hand and she easily pulls me to my feet. I forget sometimes how much stronger the trolls are. Dusting off my skirt, I reply, "I appreciate your concerns about my coolness, but I must suss out from this meteor a certain shouty straight-jacket. I fear I may have offended him." Terezi giggles, "OOOOHHH trouble in paradise? Is RED switching to BLACK?" Both Dave and I stare at her, mouth agog, which is a feat in itself, since we are both genetically unflappable. "Oh calm your excitement globes! I'm kidding! Gog!" Dave chuckles ironically, I just roll my eyes. "Trolls and their intrigues." Terezi giggles harder as she says, "Goodbye, furious wizard!" I wave goodbye.


	14. Chapter 14

I roam the halls aimlessly after checking the library and finding no-one there. I probe with my Seer powers, but there is little information of use. Just dark hallways and honks, no navigable landmarks. I refuse to go down into the sweaty bowels of the meteor. It reminds me too much of recent, very embarrassing, events. After another hour of fruitless search, I decide to just return to my room. It's empty as well. Funny. The moment I actually want to speak with someone I find not a single soul to converse with. I am tempted to take out my husktop and pester Kanaya, but I'm beginning to find the lack of controversy and intrigue deeply satisfying. Perhaps I'll take a bath. I light incense and candles, put on some soothing music, (Moby: Play in it's entirety, minus Machete and Bodyrock) and stare at the bathroom door. It hasn't closed properly since Gamzee broke it down.

I ruefully attempt to close it as best I can, propping it closed with my hamper. The room smells and feels a little damp, he must have used it today. I glance nervously at the hair trap, paranoid, but yes, he cleaned it! Or there was no shedding of hair, whichever. Do they shed regularly, or is it more of a once a year thing, like snakes? Who the hell knows. It occurs to me I haven't meditated in days as I turn on the hot water and plug the tub. As the tub fills I find my softest terrycloth robe and hang it up within reaching distance. People love to visit me at inopportune times. As a final touch, I pour a bit of rose bath oil in as I slip under the silky expanse of the water. I'm suddenly glad I spent the extra grist to make the tub as large as space would allow, going fully under and blowing bubbles.

I poke disinterestedly at the control panel, turning jet pumps on and off until I have the correct flow going. Leaning back, I rest my head on the padded edge. The hot moving water soothes out the last of the ache in my muscles. I idly watch the water swirl, noticing little rainbows in the eddies around my knees. I begin to clear my mind, shedding all worry, embarrassment, fear, and anger, allowing it to seep out into the water. I am an empty vessel, as empty as the Void. I am nothing. I am everything. I See all, I know nothing. I scoot lower into the water, breathing in the vapors deeply. I continue the mantra endlessly, until the words lose meaning, until everything around me loses meaning. It's nothing but a hum combining with the music in the other room. My pulse slows, matching the pace of my words. I feel my psyche lifting and trembling, eager to traverse the world outside of my skin. Visions always come easier to me in a transient state.

My Sight pushes out past the boundaries of the meteor, deep into the Void. At first, there is nothing but darkness. I navigate back to the splinter in paradox time, and I see two figures hovering behind the break. A creature in white, and another in black. I can only assume the black one is Bec Noir. The white I suspect to be the White Queen. They don't seem to be bent on killing one another, but hover without action. I cannot pass through the splinter, no matter how much I push. Frustrated, I change directions, rocketing back past the meteor to our eventual destination. It seems the Medium in which our ancestors have entered has finally blossomed into fruition. All four planets have evolved with their gates intact. As I had seen before, there are no kernelsprite towers, rendering this version of Sburb a Void session. I drift closer, fully intent on examining the different planets, but a rush of unexplainable horror and fear rushes through my body. I snap back to reality with a start. At some point the water in the tub had become freezing. A fresh, bone-rendering terror racks my body with shivers as I hurry out of the tub and put on my robe. I have had the displeasure of experiencing it before. I know what this is: chucklevoodoos. Trouble can only follow.


	15. Chapter 15

My bathroom door slams open, rammed by Karkat's back as he is shoved in by Gamzee. Really, I should just take the door off. Troll-kind doesn't seem to have much problem barging in on one another. They both make a series of high-pitched clicks and growls at one another. Karkat crouches into a defensive posture as if to spring. Gamzee stands defiantly in the doorway, arms crossed. There are open scratches on his arms, dripping indigo blood onto my clean bathroom floor. His face looks nothing like it has in past meetings. If anything, it is an exact opposite of the happy-go lucky masque I have encountered before, a cruel sneer playing about his lips, a calculating squint to his eyes. It scares the everliving shit out of me. "SEE, YOU STUBBORN CHUCKLEFUCK?! SHE'S FINE! JUST GOGDAMN PEACHY-KEEN," Karkat moves to grab my hand to show my lack of injury, but Gamzee emits a warning growl and another overpowering wave of voodoos. "BETTER motherFUCKING kneel when you SPEAK to me, PUNCHLINE BLOOD."

Karkat falls to his knees, emitting a sound between a wail and a whimper. Strangely, it only makes me feel ill. As he twitches on the floor, I see Karkat is sweaty, scratched, and sporting a black eye. "yeah, motherfucker. I GOT THE WICKED UNDERSTANDING ON HER CONDITION. Got a FINE lookin mama RIGHT THERE."He takes another step into the room, his eyes sizing me up. I pop my needles out of my sylladex and brandish them protectively over myself and Karkat, drawing myself to my full height. "What is the meaning of this intrusion in my private ablution block?" Gamzee laughs venomously in response, inching forward. "AWWW ALIEN GIRL! Why you gotta be all up and RUDENASTY and shit? Don't MAKE ME break out some MOTHERFUCKING HARSHWHIMSY UP IN HERE" A ephemeral chill leaks into my skin as his red-ringed indigo eyes bore into mine. Karkat sniffles at my feet, "Gam, no...stop," Even though it may mean death, "I demand an answer! I will NOT tolerate violence in my presence!" He ignores my imperative, springing forward with a club in hand and an animalistic howl.

I blast him back out of the bathroom. He makes a sickening noise when he thuds against the wall across the room. I pin him down with a steady stream of magic, and assist Karkat to his feet. Perhaps my visions were incorrect, and I would need to put down this feral beast. Much to my amazement, Gamzee pushes back against the stream, staggering to a stand and charging towards us. His hair whips wildy around his face, his bright red eyes framed by smeared makeup. I feel guilty as I prepare for a killing blow. It's clear Gamzee isn't in his right mind. I whisper in the tongues of the eldritch, boosting my power, and level my wand at his chest as he makes it to the doorway. Before I can stop him, Karkat reflexively pushes my hand away from his moirail, affording him a glancing blow that sends him to a crashing, unconscious, halt. I look at his fallen friend, and then back to Karkat. "Well, shit."

We tie Gamzee securely with a tortoise karada, (don't ask. I was bored.) with several more securing points around the bed and to the posts themselves. His horns are secured in a line running from his head, under the bed, and tied to his feet. Even with his superior strength, I doubt he would be able to free himself from Purple Plasma Rope. Ironic, I know. I haven't even changed into a decent set of clothes yet. Gamzee snores away like a newborn babe as I turn a questioning look to Karkat. "If I may be so presumptuous to ask about this? I must admit I'm quite lost. I thought you had his darker urges under control?" Karkat pulls my lounge-chair to the side of my bed, wiping the sweat and blood from his moirail's brow and arms tenderly. He speaks in a whisper. "This. This is what I was trying to explain to you earlier. If you were not being such a fuckass about the bleeding quadrants, I could have..." Gamzee stirs fitfully, and Karkat shooshes him, patting his forehead. He makes a purring noise that sounds a bit like helicopter taking off in response, muttering "Best friend." I furrow my brow and prompt, "Could have what, Karkat?" He looks sorrowfully at me, "Warned you."

My eyebrows attempt to jump off of my face. "Warn me? I knew he was dangerous, that's why we agreed to give him therapy, is it not?" I decide if I'm going to face another unpleasant revelation, I'd like to do it clothed. "I feel silly talking to you in a robe .If you don't mind turning around so I can get dressed?" I toss my sleep-mask to Karkat, jerking my finger to Gamzee. "In case he wakes." He nods, puts on the mask, and turns away politely. "So what did you need to warn me about?" I open the wardrobifier door. I don't want something binding, but I'm so not in the mood for orange. "Dunderhead wouldn't stop talking about you and your stupid cookies since you've first met him. He has a habit of fixating on people sometimes, trailing after them like a half-retarded woofbeast with hearts and flowers shooting out of his ass." I weigh Karkat's words carefully. Not exactly the best start for a patient-therapist relationship. I choose a loose black blouse and a tan pair of slacks with matching black slip-ons. Professional. Snappy silver belt to tie it all together, Voila! "So he is often inappropriately infatuated? Is this black or red romance we speak of?"

Karkat makes a stymied noise, "Red, you jackass. He wants to be matespirits with just about everyone he fucking meets. If you had fucking paid attention during my lectures you'd understand the implications of that for this GOGDAMN SITUATION!" Gamzee groans and wiggles in his bindings, Karkat automatically pats whatever flesh he could reach. I open my underwear drawer, and I see a note from Dave attached to my sexiest underwear. "Wear these. All the time, always. You will then be as awesome as I am. These. These are your awesome shades. For your boobs and butt. Do not be intimidated by their power." I sigh, only Dave could make me feel so uncomfortable. But I don't feel like rooting around, so I grab them and quickly shove them on. Fully dressed, I do feel a bit naughty knowing what I'm wearing underneath, but I ignore the feeling. "You can turn around now. How does Gamzee's propensity to seek matespiritship like the town bicycle effect his therapy?" Kar turns the lounger back around noisily, eliciting a , "Fuuuck, man!" from Gamzee before he resumes his snoring.

He sighs, speaking to me as he would a child, "Flushed or black urges tend to be particularly strong. They can override other relationships, like that of a pale or ashen. They are **mating** urges. I have observed in human movies that flushed pairs tend to break bonds of friendship or family rather easily. Mix that with a psychopathic clown, and a stupid idiot of a past self that decided it was a good idea to tell said clown he would never see his potential mate again. I think you can use your nubby fingers to draw the rest of the picture." I stand at the end of the bed awkwardly, both places I would normally sit are taken by intruding trolls. I remember I still have the table and chairs from last week, and I pull them out. I feel a bit more comfortable with some furniture between us.

"So, essentially you are saying Gamzee has the hots for me, because he does with everyone at one time or another. This makes therapy dangerous because it makes it harder for you to manage his impulses?" He looks me dead in the face with the most serious look he's ever given me. "Yes." I tap a pen that was conveniently left on the table and repress a snicker at the ridiculousness of the situation. Even humans do stupid things when they are horny, but I doubt that wisdom would be well received at this moment. "What would you recommend, then? How can I better serve your friend, and not put the lives of others in danger?" He pulls at his face in vexation. "There are two ways around it. You can outright tell him you don't like him like that, and he'll have to accept it. Hopefully. Or, ah, you can..." I pause his thought with a hand and remonstration, "Force myself to feel in kind?" He rushes his next sentence, "I have no idea how that would work out though." Gamzee's face turns into my pillow, taking a deep sniff, "Mmmm...Rosesis." My eyebrows are in space. I wish I was there with them.

There's got to be a way to dodge this bullet. "How would my refusal or acquiescence even work to stabilize him? I don't grasp why addressing the issue is so important." He glowers in my direction, "Again, PAY ATTENTION. If you tell him no, he will no longer feel the urge to make advances at you. They can get pretty heated and aggressive." I wonder how he knows that. "If you tell him yes, he will have two powerful positive emotional influences, making him less likely to freak the fuck out." I put my head down in my hands, rubbing my eyes and considering Karkat's indecent proposal. Really? What is there to consider?! Absolutely not. This is more than insane. Gamzee makes fussing noises and wriggles in his magical motherfucking slumber.


	16. Chapter 16

If I say no, he will make advances on someone else, who isn't prepared to deal with his issues. If I say yes, I have a crazy boyfriend that kisses and cuddles with a shouty angry guy. But I would be better able to handle his moods than anyone else on the meteor. I don't want to put my friends at risk. I don't want to put myself at risk! No-one else has the power of magic at their side. Even if I lost my needles, I could still defend myself. I don't even try to speculate on compatibility down...there. I sigh plaintively. There are no visions to assist me in this matter, and it is unlikely there will be.

I hear footsteps, and then a hand on my shoulder. "Rose, you have no idea how much it means to me that you want to help him. If you think it would be easier for you to say no, then say no. Quadrants can't be forced. I wouldn't want you, or anyone, to do that. Even if you don't fucking believe in them, asshole." I turn to look at his face hovering by my shoulder. It's honest and vulnerable. His face is blushing the deepest of tomato reds I've ever seen on him. It's painfully evident how much he wants the therapy, hell, everything, to work out in favor of his friend. I pull out a chair from my sylladex so he can sit. He scoots closer, rubbing my shoulders gently. I think he may be cheating on his moirail, but I'm thankful for the contact.

I sit silently and watch the slumbering giant in my bed. His face is serene and gentle, nothing like the red-eyed monster of an hour ago. His wiry chest rises and falls in a smooth, peaceful rhythm. I can see how it's so easy to pity him, a sad, broken clown. Karkat stops his rubbing with a squeeze and pat on my shoulder. "You don't have to decide now. If you can leave the harness on, we can take him back to his old room. We don't have to hide him anymore. No-one is up at this hour anyway. Kanaya's probably hanging upside down somewhere." He's looking at me out of the corner of his eyes. Being so close, I notice that his irises are actually peppered with little bright red dots. It's pretty. I snigger at his vampire remark. "I'd rather not move him and experience the joy of having you two chuckleheads break down my bathroom door again. And I have a shit-ton of questions." He gives me a bashful smile.

Troll S&M sleepovers are awesome. And that is all that needs to be said on the matter. Actually, there's a lot to be said. Karkat and I figure out how to make blow-up mattresses in the alchemiter, (Balloons and mattresses! Yay!) and I pull a series of blankets and pillows from storage. "Do humans always have so many extra sleeping covers?" I toss his at him, "Yes. Because we plan ahead, like good sentient beings." I set my bed up in the far corner of the room, because well, ambushes happen. Karkat sets his up on the side of the bed facing the door. Gamzee still seems content to snore away lightly in his restraints. It must have been a pretty good shot to put him out like that.

"Karkat, shouldn't we check to make sure he doesn't have a concussion?" He looks over at his friend, "Nah, the dumb bastard has been hit in the head way harder and was just fine. Kid's got a thinkpan of steel." He sets up his blankets and pillows in a careful nest on top of his bed. It kind of reminds me of how Jaspers always liked to sleep on my laundry. I decide I am nowhere near tired yet, and plop down next to him with makeup, nail-polish, and hairstyling supplies. He looks down at them, aghast, "What the hell are you doing with those? You are not turning me into a religious convert! I will not join the honking congregation!" I narrow my eyes at him. "You're sleeping in my room. Your moirail is tied up on my bed like a perverted freak-show that would make my psychoanalytical forebears blush in shame. We. Are. Doing. Makeovers. Totally platonic, no weird clown religion. I find it's easier to talk when you're doing something constructive." Not that we can ever really seem to shut up about our FEELINGS around each other anyway. But I don't mention that. Gah.

I bring over my mp3 boombox and put on some soothing ambient music, (Steve Roach's Dreamtime Return.) "What color do you want your nails?" I lay my assortment out at his feet. "Really? You're going to make me do this." I wait with a sublime smile, and after a minute he gives in, "Augh, fine. Black. The blackest of black blasphemies that you can find." I shake my head. Too funny. I take out the paint and deftly grab his hand, positioning it carefully on the portable manicure desk I have. "So tell me. What exactly does a flushed romance entail?" I push back the cuticle (ick) on his thumb with a pushing stick, and lay down a first coat. He blusters a bit, but finally answers, "Well, based on my research into your human romantic relationships, it's pretty similar to your common partnership. You know...kissing, hugging, um..."he hesitates, flustered. "Sex?" I offer helpfully. "Yea. Sex. Thanks." I start working on his index finger. "Anything other than the physical aspect?" He starts to relax as I paint his second nail. "Of course dumb shit. You go on dates, talk, do hobbies and shit together. You're pretty much connected at the hip. All the stupid fuckassery that you'd expect from a human."

He squirms a little when I start pushing the cuticles on his middle finger, "I'm sorry, does that hurt?" He flashes me the bird with his other hand. "Nah. Tickles." I smile wickedly, "I see. Sorry. Any issues with jealousy, violence, aggression?" His face pales a little, " Ah... yeah. About that." My stomach drops. "See, dating a subjugglator, er, someone that's supposed to be one, is a little different than dating other trolls. From what I've read," He winces when I push too hard with the cuticle stick, "They are totally dedicated to their partner. They will never look elsewhere, they will never wander. Once a subjugglator loves you, they love you forever." I give him a meh look, urging him to continue. "Since they won't philander, they are protective of their partners. They won't put up with anyone giving them crap." I put away the stick after finishing with his pinky finger. "Meaning, Mr. Vantas?" He takes a shaky breath. "They will split heads, literally, if anyone messes with their flushed partner." That's unnerving. "And by "mess with" do you mean talk to, hang out with, or otherwise interact with their partner?" He give me a startled look, "Ah, no? I mean if anyone were to attempt to harm them. What the fuck LaLonde? They could give two shits thrown at a nutbeast in a pine tree who you hang out with. As long as you're faithful to them." I swallow, doing my best to push away the anxiety in my voice, "And if the partner no longer wishes to be flushed with them?"

He's silent for a moment, admiring the fine job I've done with the first coat. "Usually that doesn't happen. Most trolls would consider someone lucky if they partnered up with a highblood. In the rare instances it does happen, it really depends on the subjugglator. Rumor has it Gamzee's ancestor was flushed for Terezi's. When she was killed, he went apeshit, tearing apart the courtroom until it was just splinters." I my hand twitches involuntarily, leaving a streak of paint on Karkat's middle finger. "You realize that's disquieting to a squishy pink monkey, right?" I take a cottonball out and tease away the extra polish as he responds, "Really? To us, that's like...ultimate devotion." Oh my gog he's serious. "Generally, if a matespiritship is broken off, people just go their separate ways. No big deal. There's no documented evidence of someone leaving a 'jugglator." I look at him speculatively, "But you didn't say what happens if a matespirit is unfaithful. What then?" He snatches his hand away as I put the finishing touches on his pinky finger. Not a good sign.

"You already saw it. He thought I was soliciting you for the flushed quadrant, and he lost his narrow ass clown shit. Hence the wonderful face adornment." Jegus. Fuck my hot life on this shitty bullshit meteor. My face remains neutral. He continues, " Like I said, he's harder to control when he's interested in someone. It doesn't mean he'll act like that every time someone touches you or makes eyes at you. Subjugglators will never harm their matespirits. If it does happen, it could go either two ways, the blackest of black and contentious kimestiudes, or..." My eyebrows are tickling the underbelly of Mars, "Or, Mr. Vantas?" He tilts his face so it's looking directly into mine, "They cull them. And no-one would be able to stop them." Karkat watches my face for it's reaction, but I resolutely give away nothing. This conversation has just lost cabin pressure. Call the ambulances and the fire brigade, we're going down.

I fight to keep my inner composure and face free of expression. I pick up his second hand and work with a new cuticle stick, this time doing the whole hand before painting. He winces when I push a little too hard, but says nothing. Holy mother of glub grubbing Gog. I feel like I'm dancing on the razor's edge of a deep and unsettling abyss. It's more of a panic jig than a dance, but gyration ensues. I push, uselessly, with my Sight. I'm too frazzled to really see anything. What the hell do I do? I can't let him tear apart the meteor, but I don't want to be at the concussive end of those awful juggling clubs. The silence stretches on, Karkat not daring to break it. Stay. Cool. "Well, let it not be said that your clowns don't know how to make an impression on a gal. A horrifying, dangerous impression, but one nonetheless. What constitutes cheating in the bumfuckery of your quadrangles?"

Karkat chokes out a sigh of relief and surprise, "Not running for your inferior human hills? If you insist..." I give him a stern face and threaten him with my nail brush, "I do. Quit squirming." "The concept of cheating for trolls is very similar to the human definition. There are things that you only do with Kimesmis or Matespirit, like kissing, hugging, and other physical intimacy. Your situation is a little bit of a clusterfuck, given there is no precedent for it. I imagine it will take acculturation for both of you. Anyway, most trolls are pretty permissive when it comes to all of that anyway. (oh hell no.) It's okay if you hug or otherwise console a platonic friend, or even make out with them, sometimes. (Double hell to the no.) Sex with anyone other than your black or red partner is right out, though. (Okay, normal.) They give even fewer fucks about hugging and cuddling with your moirail. Shooshing and papping is cool." I have to ask, "Do moirails kiss, like, ever?" I try not to laugh, but fail, when I see his reaction. "What? Fuck no! I don't. Just. No. No, that never happens. Fuck you for making me think that. Fuck you even more for making me say it. Just fuck you in every way, platonically. The closest thing I can liken it to is trying to make out with your human lusus." My face imitates my shrug, "Noted." So he only hugs and cuddles his moirail. I quirk with silent laughter as I'm reminded of a Steinbeck novel. Makes sense, like a good friend. Maybe I'll start calling Karkat George. "So basically don't be a philandering asshole. Is that the jist of things?" He blows on his nails, "Yeah."


	17. Chapter 17

The belt I picked out to look professional is digging into my stomach. The things I do for fashion. "Do you mind if I get changed into pajamas? I thought we might be starting therapy early today, but clearly that mountain of snore and drool isn't waking anytime soon" On cue, he mutters in his sleep. I wonder if we should just untie him, but a flash of that cruel sneer makes me stay my hand. Swallowing, I think I' ll just check to make sure they aren't too tight. "Karkat, help me check his bindings. I don't want him to cramp or lose circulation." He bobs up, checking his feet and lower torso. "You should be able to get two fingers under the rope, any looser and he'll get out, any tighter and it will cut off blood-flow. And no, you are not allowed to ask how I know that." He doesn't say anything, looking down with concentration and a private smile.

I check around his head and horns, all is well. I frown when I get to his arms. They are secured, but a little too tightly, and behind his back. This is going to either be dangerous or awkward. Karkat finishes with a quick pat to his friend's knee, "Done." I incline my head towards his chest, "Good, we need to move his arms. I didn't think he would be out for this long. We are going to secure new bindings to his wrists and upper arms, and then cut loose the old ones. They're only looped into the karada anyway." He gives me a mocking look, "And how do you propose to access this area? You've got him tied down like Troll Gulliver." I give him the best withering look I can manage, "Then allow me to schoolfeed you, grasshopper. You are going to push him up, one side at a time, until I have the new bindings tied and looped to their secure spots. Same for cutting the rope." He gives me an irritating smirk, "What makes you think I can heft that motherfucking ass mountain? Why not use magic?" I glower at him, "Consider it a challenge to your trollhood." He grumbles, but acquiesces. I risk waking him up if I use magic. So not ready to deal with all that. With a grunt, he lifts, and I quickly tie figure eight knots around Gamzee's left bicep and forearm. His breathing barely hitches as Karkat puts him back down, and we do the same on the other side. "This flying asshole could sleep through a gogdamn class five tubular wind storm. He almost slept through his entrance to Sburb, the dumb fuck."

"Good to know, Karkat. Now if you'd hold him for a bit longer so I can free his arms?" Instead of bothering with cutting the cord, I tease the knots apart with a quick zap of magic, pulling the rope loose. Gamzee makes a contented sound, offering no resistance to the new state of his limbs. Worried, I check along his arms for signs of cramping with my thumbs and fingertips. I find a knot near his elbow, so I press down with my thumb in circular motions. "What the hell are you doing, LaLonde? I know you're thinking about redrom with the guy, but I won't let you molest him when he sleeps!" Karkat goes to grab my hand away, but I feel the knot finally give. The trussed up troll's chest chirps with a delighted groan. I release his arm immediately,"Calm your excitement globes, Karkles. It's called a massage. We lowly humans use them to relieve sore muscles." I come in peace, nubby-horned one. Nanu-nanu. He gives you a 'SUURRREEE, keep telling yourself that' look. "Right then. Are you done molesting him now?" I roll my eyes and throw the extra rope at him.

A successful change of clothes later, I ask Karkat if he's ready to go to sleep. He nods groggily in response. I flick the light switch with magic from my makeshift bed. Karkat makes a surprised noise when the glow in the dark stars (painstakingly placed in accurate formation of the skies I would see at home) light the room softly. "What are those? Magic?" I snort, "No, plastic with photo-luminescent paint." Sorry to disband the 'miracle.' Rustling in his pile, he grumps back, "Hmph. Whatever. Goodnight." Tired of his grating demeanor, I return in kind. "Goodnight, fuckass." I hear him mutter in his pile of blankets and pillows.

I wake before the alarm, another night of pure blackness. The lack of dream-bubbles is beginning to worry me. Has the green beast destroyed them all already? Is it possible to destroy the dead? I open my eyes, taking a moment to remember I have visitors in my room. Shit! Visitors, angry tied up visitors! I leap out of the bed and do my best to skulk quietly over to my alarm. A minute to spare. Whew. I turn off the alarm, relieved. The longer he sleeps, the better, I guess. I turn to check on my clownish captive, and I'm rather surprised to see Karkat sleeping in a maladroit little ball next to him. His head rests right on Gamzee's solar plexus, a little pool of drool underneath his head. Surely Norman Rockwell could do no better. Strange little creatures. I furtively check Gamzee's trusses again, taking care to disturb neither. They haven't come loose in the night, so I count my blessings. Sort of. As much as one can count blessings on a meteor rocketing to potential doom when attempting to heal the mind of a psychopathic clown that may or may not be in love with you. Maybe it would be more accurate to count curses. They seem to be in greater number. I pull my comforter over the both of them before I go to get changed. I pull down my bottoms quickly, and I hear something behind me that sounds suspiciously like an appreciative gasp. I whirl around, but see nothing but sleeping trolls in the dim light of my room. I grab my clothes and stalk over to the bathroom, determined to have privacy. It dawns on me that I still never asked who changed my clothes during the furious wizard incident.

Kanaya awaits my arrival in the kitchen as per normal. Routine is an addicting thing. I can see her nose wrinkle with displeasure at the scent of Gamzee, but I wave her off. "I had unexpected visitors last night. Had to start therapy early." She gives me my coffee and sits across the table from me, indexing my body from head to toe. "Has he been difficult? Do you need me to bring my lipstick?" I smile at her fondly, her deep concern for my safety is endearing. "No, I was just fine. I can toss that clown around like a wet rag-doll if I need to." She gives me a fanged smile, "I imagine that would be quite the sight to see." I pat her hand as I walk past her to the alchemiter, deciding a pancake breakfast was in order. I'll bring the extra to Gam and Kar when Kanaya leaves. I know she's accepting of my role as his psychologist, but I'm certain she would be none too pleased about the circumstances of his sleepover. I return with a short stack, settling next to Kanaya rather than across from.

She looks at me with amused consternation. "Will we be meeting in the Library today? I have some new ideas about about our future predicament based on a few scrolls I found." I start eating, chewing on a pancake thoughtfully. "Unfortunately, Kan, I'm going to be busy with Gamzee's therapy for much of the morning. Take notes for me?" She pulls a disgruntled face, "Very well. Good luck with your project." She walks out of the room with something just shy of a stomp. I'll make it up to her later. I make a huge pile of pancakes, bacon, sausage, and two jugs of orange juice and captchalouge them. I'm pretty sure I have dishes and cutlery in there already. I don't need to announce I'm having breakfast in my bedroom with two weirdos. I glance at the clock on the wall, 9am. I'm surprised no-one else has gotten up yet. Maybe I'm just having a lucky day!


	18. Chapter 18

The minute I enter my room I hear the creaking of rope and Karkat shooshing his moirail, "It's okay, Gam. She'll be back. Calm you narrow clown ass the fuck down." Not. Lucky. Ever. I lock the door behind me, gog forbid something go down. There's no screaming, or harsh shout whispers, which is encouraging. Karkat spins on his heel, spitting mad, "WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?!" I don't bother answering, instead decaptchalouging breakfast on the table. "Oh." I give Karkat a 'calm yosef' look and glide over to the bed. I pick up a pen light from the bedside table and sit next to Gamzee. "How are you feeling this morning, Mr. Markara?" So professional. His eyes stop wildly roving around the room long enough to register that I'm next to him.

"Not too motherfucking good, my Rosesis. Been putting down the harshwhimsy on my Karbro n stressin his shit out. My pan hurts something awful. " He snuffles, and Karkat wipes his nose. Leaning over him, I check his pupils with the penlight, they contract and dilate properly. No concussion, good. "It's okay, Gamzee. That's why we've set aside time to help you today." I capture his chin in my hand, gently turning his face to mine. The ropes around his horns squeal, making him wince. None of the cruel monster remains in his face today. "Do you remember what happened yesterday?" He nods as much as his restraints will let him. "Got up and righteous mad at my Karbro, for...um..." He looks at me for help, "I know already, Gam. It's something we will discuss later." He gives me a shaky smile. "I don't remember much all, just getting mad, and scaring my bro an you something awful like...sorry." Karkat huffs, "It's fine you giant pain in the ass. Just keep your chucklefuckery to yourself next time." I nod in agreement. It's like swimming in ice water.

"Do you think you can contain yourself today? I'd like to get you out of those restraints if at all possible. Not exactly a healthy environs for therapy, if you ask me." He wriggles uncomfortably, "Sure could hit the gaper like a motherfuckerin bomb right now. I'm not feelin up on the whimsy none, if that's your askin." I check the color of his eyes again with the penlight. They've returned to their usual yellow and indigo hue. "Good." With a flick, the ropes un-knot themselves and coil into a pile next to the bed. Karkat and I help him to his feet and guide him to the bathroom. I look at Kar pleadingly, "Help him? He should take a bath to relax his muscles." He scowls at me, but when Gamzee stumbles and whimpers, he ushers his friend towards the tub.

I put out plates, cutlery, and cups, filling each. I contemplate how difficult this task will truly be. How do you help someone who has done such heinous acts? Is there coming back from that kind of darkness, or does it leave a permanent scar on your soul? Hell, who am I to ask those questions? I have the same questions about my own episode. My selfishness ended in the deaths of both my mother and John. Do such things every truly leave one's spirit? My stomach twists with self-doubt and repressed emotion. I feel like a fool. How fucking pompous of me to assume I could effect a difference. There's a crash in the bathroom followed by loud invective. I rush to the door, pushing it aside easily to discover Gamzee sprawled out on the floor with Karkat beneath him, cussing a blue streak. He rolls off and curls into a ball, "I-I'm so fucking sooorrrryyy bro! I fucked up so motherfucking bad! Oh fuck FUCK fuck!" I ignore the fact he's naked, crouching in front of him. "Gamzee." No response, just a litany of fuck, like a prayer to a desperate god. I take his hands, and he flinches mightily. "Don't motherfucking touch me! I.."His voice cracks as he wails loud enough to shake the glass in the room. "I'm a fucking murderer!"

He breaks down into a series of honks and sobs. I look at Karkat, who gives me a look of , "Welcome to my life." I pull his hands to my shoulders, placing them there gently. This is a huge risk, but I'm pretty sure it's the only way through to him. "Gamzee. Look at me, please." His eyes flicker between red and yellow, a metronome between cruelty and shattered innocence. "What do you want to do, right now? Do you wish to harm me?" His eyes fill with horror when he realizes where his hands are, and he tries to pull away. I won't let him. "Answer me, please. It's important." His eyes dart to my neck, his hands, to Karkat, to my eyes. "I...FUCK...I...no...no, I don't."

"Good, Gamzee. Good. Why don't you want to hurt me?" His eyes swivel wildly, like a compass with a conflicting magnet on it. "Look at me, please. It's okay, Gam. Just answer the question." I rub and pat his arms in reassurance. His voice hovers between his normal speech and that of his frightening doppelganger as he locks eyes on me again, "I don't WANT to MOTHER fuckin HURT you. DON'T want TO hurt ANYONE. BUT I FUCKING HURT KARBRO." I nod, encouraging him. "But you don't want to hurt him now?" Gamzee starts panting, a sheen of sweat covering him from head to toe. "NeVeR. NEVER want TO. FUCKERS what's IN MY HEAD told me to." I look at him squarely, putting all of the comfort and kindness I can into my expression, "I know, Gam, it's hard. Do you want to listen to them now?" His hands squeeze my shoulders nervously, "no. don't wanna." I move in slowly, telegraphing my intentions before I do it, placing a cautious hug around his shoulders. I intone in his ear, "Then you will not." He whimpers, wrapping his lanky arms around me, and snuffles on my shoulder. "Come on, let's get you in the tub." He nods wordlessly against my hair, staggering to his feet as I rise with him. He holds my hand as he steps over the lip of the tub and sits with a docile air. I show him the controls, and he pokes at them with a hollow expression. He still hasn't let go of my hand.

I instruct Karkat to retrieve three aromatherapy oils from my cabinet, bergamot, lemon grass, and grapefruit. He hustles out of the room with a worried look. I gently pry loose Gamzee's hand from my own, positioning myself behind him so I can wash his hair. "wassat for? The boogiemot n shit?" I cup my hands to fill them with water and pour it over his hair, "I use it for aromatherapy. People react to different smells with different emotions, because the smell itself effects different parts of the brain, er, thinkpan. It helps lessen anxiety. And it smells good, so bonus." He hums, sinking lower into the water.

Satisfied with the wetness of his hair, I begin massaging in my lavender shampoo into his scalp. Gamzee purrs loudly enough that the water ripples around him. Karkat returns, and I hear him make a strange sound behind me. I look over my shoulder at him to see his face has resumed it's bright red shade. I don't know if it's because he should be doing this, it's too intimate for him to see, whatever. I shrug and give him a 'well, hey, he's not trying to kill us right now so deal with it.' look. I wave him over with my free hand, "Karkat, I want you to measure out two capfuls of the bergamot, three of lemon grass, and four of the grapefruit in the water, please." I think I've accidentally deputized Karkat as my psychiatric nurse. He rolls up his sleeves, complying without comment. "You'll find washcloths and lemongrass soap in the cabinet behind me, would you get them please?" Again, he does as I ask without speaking. I must be pretty good at this. I make sure to rub the soap in around the base of Gamzee's horns, and his purr takes on a husky whine. With a final scrub, I'm satisfied with his hair's state of lather. As he dunks himself under the water, I ask Karkat to help him wash. I don't want him to be alone right now, but I totally am not scrubbing down a dude at this hour of the morning. Not for the power of all of the horrorterrors in the void. He sighs, "Come on, fuckhead. Let's get this rude stonk off of you." I excuse myself as Gamzee playfully splashes Karkat, "Come on scrubbybro, that shit tickles! HoNk!"


	19. Chapter 19

Once alone, I panic. HOLY FUCKFESTIVAL WHAT AM I DOING?! I pace anxiously, unable to sit. How the hell am I going to treat him? What the fuck am I doing? What if I fuck him up worse? Holy shit holy shit holy shit. I pull myself up short. I am a LaLonde. We are genetically predisposed to stay cool under pressure. I have seen the positive results of these choices. I just have to follow through, and Stay. Cool. I decaptchalouge several bean-bag chairs and place them at the foot of the bed. I light candles, incense, turn down the lights, and play soothing music. (Ray Charles' Jazz album et al.) Routine is good. Routine will calm your jittery ass down. I take a deep breath. The bathroom door squeaks pitifully on it's hinges as Karkat and Gamzee emerge. Karkat's shirt is soaked through, and he looks like he just won 'grumpiest in show'. Gamzee is all smiles. "Come on, Karbro! Time to get some motherfuckin pancakes! Shit is delicious!" He pushes his moirail ahead of him, turning back to the bathroom. "Yeah, yeah you fruity-smelling bastard. Go chow down. I'm going to change my shirt." I don't think Karkat knows how to carry a conversation without invective.

Gamzee and I both pile up our plates in companionable silence. I worry at my lip when he isn't looking and list the sedative herbs he may require. "Whatcha got your think on, Rosesis?" I look up with a start, he had scooted right next to me. Damn it, Brain! Pay Attention! "I was deciding which herbs I should use in combination with your therapy. It's ridiculous how many different varieties of plants on earth there are to use." He smiles and throws an arm around my shoulder, "Awww, motherfucker's got their think on how to help a brother." He pecks a quick kiss on the top of my head and keeps munching. Yeah. Sooo Professional right now. There better not be paint in my hair. I finish my food quickly, disentangling myself from his grasp. He pouts, but lets it go. Karkat returns, and digs in just as voraciously as his friend.

I'm still a little shaken from before, but I take care not to show it."Kar, Gam, did you two keep journals this week? I'd like to take an hour or two to read them over and take notes. We can meet again here a little after lunch." I hope this works. I need a moment to breathe. "Right here, my wicked sis! Been all up an excited to be giving you my write-book!" He ejects the journal out of his miracle modus, and it shoots across the room, effectively exploding a stack of books I had on an adjacent table. I don't. What? Face-palm. "Whoa, sorry, Rosesis, you know how the miracles can be." I don't, but why bother correcting him. Karkat just rolls his eyes and places his on the table. I'm certain I hear "Fuckass" under his breath.

Gam and I head over to the pile at the same time, I don't even remember what order they were in or why. With a serene smile, Gamzee takes the books I hand him, placing them willy nilly on the desk. I suppose order was too much to ask for. When I hand him the last, his hand lingers just a bit too long on my own, and he smiles that shit-eating grin I've heard he was rather famous for. This is going to have to be addressed, and soon. "No worries best sister. We all up and clean now." He hands me his journal with a sly smile, "Girlfriend's gonna all learn on a motherfucker's secrets now? Shit's gonna get real up in here!" I have no idea what he's laughing about, but I rather hate being the butt of a joke. I take the journal, and his thumb runs across the back of my hand. I back away, turning to walk out. I hiss in Karkat's ear as I rush out the door, "Next time YOU carry both of the journals!" He smirks. I hear Gamzee calling me back, but...I just need a minute.

When you are on a meteor careening through space, there are few places one can successfully hide. I'm doing what I typically do when I'm challenged by emotion: get sarcastic and run away. Habits are hard to break. Sure it makes me a coward, but a coward with a sense of dignity nonetheless. Now is not the time for self-introspection. Now is time for finding a place to hide from an amorous clown and his grumpy sidekick. I settle into one of the larger air ducts in the musclebeast lab, certain I won't be interfered with here. Putting on my headphones, I thumb through it aimlessly, but feel a little too worked up to pick any one song. Fine. Random, then. Pen and paper at the ready! I choose Karkat's journal first, because it will probably be easier to read.

He writes just like he types. Wonderful. "FIRST DAY OF THE FUCK-UP JAMBOREE THAT IS THIS JOURNAL. THAT BULLSHIT IDIOT CLOWN HARDLY SLEPT AFTER YOU TALKED TO HIM. I CAN ALREADY SEE THE HEARTS AND FUCKING FLOWERS BLOSSOMING OUT OF HIS ADDLED THINK-PAN. I FEEL LIKE I'M GOING TO PUKE. THAT JACKASS YAMMERED ON ABOUT HOW NICE YOU WERE AND HOW GOOD THE COOKIES TASTED UNTIL HE FELL ASLEEP, AROUND FIVE AM. THAT IS NOW A THING I WILL DO. GOOD NIGHT." Greaaat. This is going to be such a joy to read. The way it's written, he might as well be in the room yelling this information to me.

"DAY TWO: FUCKFACE JAMBOREE: GAMZEE WAKES UP AROUND NOON. HAS THINKPAN PAIN. USUALLY MEANS IT'S NOT GOING TO BE A GOOD DAY. ASSHOLE MOPES AROUND UNTIL I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE. I TAKE HIM TO YOUR ROOM FOR A SHOWER BECAUSE HE SMELLS LIKE FIFTY SHADES OF ASS. HIS SMELL MAKES SMELL GHOSTS, AND THEY HAUNT MY NASAL PASSAGES WITH AN ETHEREAL VENGENCE. YOUR CRIPPLED ASS IS SLEEPING IN THE BED, BUT I DOUBTED HE COULD GET INTO ANY BUMFUCKERY WHILE I GOT HIM ANOTHER TERRYCLOTH SQUARE TO WASH WITH. WHAT A DUMB FUCK MY PAST SELF WAS. HALF-WAY BACK TO HIS ROOM, A DREAM BUBBLE TAKES THE FUCKING SHIP AND I'M OFF IN LALA LAND AND CAN'T FIND MY ASS WITH MY OWN CRINKLED HANDS.

DAY TWO, ASSTARD RUMPUS, CONTINUED. I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU SAID TO HIM, BUT HE SEEMS PRETTY HAPPY ABOUT IT. SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR "VISION-MIRACLES" AND HOW THEY "UP AND SAY HE'S IMPORTANT." I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU MADE THAT PORCINEBEAST SHIT HILL SMILE. A REAL SMILE. HE HASN'T SMILED IN TWO FUCKING YEARS. AD;FLKJASDFILJAS.

DAY TWO, A MOTHER FUCKING AGAIN: PAST ME WAS AN ASS TO YOU. SORRY. WHEN YOU PASSED OUT, I HAD THAT SKIRT-CLAD FREAK SHOW CARRY YOU BACK TO YOUR BED. YOUR TEMPERATURE WAS REALLY FUCKING HIGH, AND I COULDN'T LEAVE THAT CHUCKLEFUCK ALONE WITH YOU AFTER WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME. ONE OF MY FAVORITE SHIRTS RIPPED IN TRANSIT, YOU'RE WELCOME. ANYWAY, I HID GAMZEE AND MADE A BULLSHIT STORY ABOUT WHY YOU WERE WANDERING THE HALLS TO KANAYA. SHE CHANGED YOU. I HOPE THAT'S NOT WIERD FOR HUMANS. SHE'S THE ONE THAT WENT TO GET STRIDER. ANYWAY, HE WOULDN'T PUT ON ANOTHER SHIRT, AND INSISTED ON HOLDING YOU UNTIL YOUR "WICKED BURN" GOT ALL OF IT'S "RUDNESS OUT." TURNS OUT HIS GROTESQUELY ICY HIGHBLOOD SKIN KEPT YOUR FEVER FROM GETTING WORSE. OH SHIT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHAT THE FUCK? JEGUS JUMPING VENOMOUS SHITHIVE EATING MAGGOTS WHAT ARE MY SEE-ORBS WITNESSING? IF YOU KEEP DOING THAT HE'S GOING TO GET THE WRONG IDEA! OH FUCK STOP IT YOU STUPID PINK MONKEY! YOU ARE SO GETTING THE ^TROLL TALK.^ FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK. ^EDIT^ FURIOUS WIZARD. THAT IS ALL.

DAY TWO: LAST ENTRY. HE WAS PRETTY UPSET I SENT HIM BACK TO HIS ROOM AFTER YOUR FEVERED PSYCHOSIS. I HAD TO PAP AND SHOOSH HIS GLUTEAL AREA SO HARD I'M PRETTY SURE IT DID DAMAGE. HE MOPED FOR THE REST OF THE DAY, WRITING LIKE A FIEND. HE WON'T SHOW ME WHAT HE SAID. I LOST TRACK OF THE CHUCKLEFUCK FOR AN HOUR. FOUND HIM WANDERING BACK FROM YOUR ROOM. LOOKED HAPPIER. OH, FUCK, YOU WANTED TO KNOW WHAT HE ATE AND SHIT. I HAVE NO IDEA WHY THAT'S RELEVANT, BUT WHATEVER. MORNING: PEEPBEAST EGGS AND OINKBEAST STRIPS. AFTERNOON: NOTHING, BUSY WRESTLING WITH YOUR FEVERED INSANITY. NIGHT: GRUBLOAF WITH SAUCE. AND OF COURSE, A SHIT-TON OF FAYGO. I CAN'T FOR THE LIFE OF ME FATHOM WHERE HE KEEPS FINDING THAT SHIT.

Reading in all caps is getting to be a bit tiresome, but I persevere. DAYS THREE THROUGH FIVE. FUCKING SCARY. HONKING ASSHOLE IS GETTING HARDER TO CONTROL BECAUSE HE'S THINKING WITH HIS BONE BULGE. IT'S A FUCKING MIRACLE (OH CONVERT ME TO THE CHOIR HONKING) THAT HE HASN'T KILLED ANYONE. I CAN BARELY GET HIM TO EAT, AND IT'S ALL BREAKFAST FOOD. WON'T EVEN TOUCH ANYTHING ELSE, THE SHITTARD. KEEPS MUMBLING ABOUT YOU. WON'T SLEEP AT ALL. I'M GOING TO TALK TO YOU TOMORROW. WOULD HAVE DONE SO EARLIER, BUT HE'S BUSY TEARING APART THE INTERIOR OF THE METEOR OR SOBBING UNCONTROLLABLY. HOPEFULLY HE'LL STOP BY THEN, IT LOOKS LIKE HE'S RUNNING OUT OF STEAM. OH, NOPE. OF COURSE NOT. EXCUSE ME WHILE I RUN FOR MY LIFE. JEGUS H. CHRISTMAS. ^EDIT:^ I FINALLY GOT HIM TO SLEEP, BUT HIS MOODS ARE CYCLING FASTER THAN A METAL SPINNING TOY. HE'S ALL HEARTS AND FLOWERS ONE MINUTE, AND THE VERY FUCKING NEXT HE'S THE EMBODIMENT OF THE TROLL DEVIL. TALK. YOU. ME. TOMORROW.

DAY SIX OF THE CHUCKLEFUCK RUMPUS: HE'S A LITTLE CALMER TODAY. ACTUALLY ATE BREAKFAST AND LUNCH. HASN'T TRIED TO KILL ME OR THE OTHERS ON THE SHIP YET. BUT IT'S STILL MORNING. HE'S BEEN WRITING, SO I'M GOING TO LEAVE HIM TO IT. ^EDIT^ FUCK. YOU. ABOUT. YOUR. THEORY. IN. THE. BUCKET. YOU. CAME. FROM. ^EDIT EDIT^ SORRY, PAST ME IS A FUCKTARD. YOU JUST FELL ASLEEP. ABOUT OUR FIGHT: I WAS REALLY ANGRY AFTER TALKING TO YOU, SO I WENT TO HIM FOR A JAM. AS SOON AS I STARTED TALKING SHIT ABOUT YOU, HE GOT ALL DEFENSIVE. HIM AND HIS BONEBULGE SHOULD JUST GET HUMAN MARRIED ALREADY. FOR FUCK'S SAKE. I TOLD HIM I THOUGHT YOUR THERAPY WAS HOOFBEAST SHIT AND HE FLIPPED THE FUCK OUT. FULL ON RED-EYED PSYCHOPATHIC BARD OF RAGE ASS CLOWN. TRIED TO RUN OUT OF THE ROOM TO YOURS, AND I GOT IN THE WAY. THAT'S HOW I GOT THIS LOVELY SHINER. YOU KNOW THE REST. TAKE WHAT I TOLD YOU REALLY FUCKING SERIOUSLY. THIS SHIT ISN'T FUNNY, OR FUN. IN FACT, IT IS THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF FUN. IT IS THE FUNLESS BLACK HOLE OF NOTHING. GET YOUR THINKPAN SCREWED ON TIGHT AROUND THIS SHIT, WHATEVER YOU CHOOSE TO DO. GOOD LUCK.

I put Kar's journal down with shaky hands. What the fuck am I thinking? Just last night I was talking about the merits of dating a subjugglator like an idiot teenage girl on a television show. Am I so vapid? Gamzee has multiple issues that push him to dark places. Not that I don't... Am I really prepared to do this? Am I prepared to heal the mind of someone who could literally rip my arms off and proceed to beat me with them for fun? Jegus Christmas indeed. I breathe deeply. I have to stop for a moment, center myself. As if to worsen my mood, Jen Titus' "O Death" comes on. It strikes me HOW FUCKING SERIOUS this is. I must proceed in the best way possible. I am faced with a nigh impossible task. I will have to use a combination of herbal remedies, psychology, and troll culture. It will not be easy. It will not always be fun. At times it will be downright frightening. Despite that, I must face it with patience and perseverance. Without his help we are lost. My hands shake less as I open the second journal. Gamzee's entries have no markers of logical progression, so I just hope they line up that way.

"HeY ThErE My BeAuTiFuL MoThErFuCkEr! I uP aNd JaMmEd w/ My KaRbRo aLl LaSt NiGhT! hE's AlL sAyIn I'm A sIlLy MoThErFuCkEr To Be So ExCiTeD aBoUt KeEpIN a WrItE-BoOk FoR yOu. AnD I'm AlL LiKe, "WhAtEvEr KeEpS A fInE SiStEr HaPpY, yOu KnOw? =0)" "hey rosesis. I'M ALL UP IN MY THINKPAN thinkin about what I SHOULD UP AND SAY HERE. HONK honk. my pan really FUCKIN HURTS today. I'M SCARED that means all the BAD THOUGHTS are gonna up and TALK AT ME today. ITS ALWAYS WORSE when my pan hurts. MY HANDS WONT STOP SHAKING AND ALL I SEE IS BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD HONK HONK HONK HOOOOOOOOOONK. IM SO FUCKING SORRY MY WICKED MOTHERFUCKERS!" (The I'm sorry motif continues for a few pages.)

"HeY AgAIn, mY rOseSIS! IM AlL SORts oF GlAD yOU tOlD a MoThErFuCkEr ThAt He'S iMpOrTaNt. HoNk HoNk! =0)! ThAt'S sOmE wIcKeD eLiXiR aGaInSt ThOse BaD mOtHeRfUcKiN dAyS, FeEl Me? MaKeS a BrOtHeR WaNt To Up AnD BeLiEvE iN aLl SoRtS oF nEw MiRaClEs, DiG? MakEs a BrO mAd HaPpY!"

"HEY my SICk SISter, MY paLE BRO KAR wouldN'T leT A MOTHER fucker STAy anD Take CARe OF you. =0( HE's alWAYs taKin CaRe oF ME, or WORrieD I'mA GET HURT or HURT somEOne ElSE. SOMedAy I WANNA bE ABLe to TAKE CARE of MOTHER fuckers LIKe he DoEs. IT wouLD be A SuPER WickeD NaSTY MiRaClE. Like my goat dad. HE NEVER TOOK CARE OF ME LIKE KAR DOES. AND I lOVed tHAT PIECE OF SHIT beCAUSe I DIDN'T HaVe ThE MOTHER FUCKING KNOW not to. THAT FUCKER SAID ONE FUCKING THING TO ME. ONE. FUCKING. THING. 'DON'T GO IN THE OCEAN.' I DIDN'T SEE HIM AGAIN until he was dead. I WOULD STAND OUT THERE FOR fucking hours, SCREAMING FOR HIM. He never came. GOT SUNBURNT REAL BAD A FEW TIMES cuz I thought maybe he liked THE FUCKING SUN. KaRBRO knoWS hoW To TakE CARe of A BROTHER. I'M JusT wisHIN I haD the chaNCE to DO a MiRaClE for you, ROSESIS."

I stop to wipe the tears away. This hits way too close to home. I know exactly what it feels like to want to take care of others because you never were. Do not misunderstand me, I comprehend that my ecto-mother was merely the post-scratch version of myself. How she coped with it is of her own choosing. Despite that, a parent should never actively neglect a child. His words fill me with the uneasy static of things I refuse to think about. Her body, ringed in blood...I never, we...just fucking never said what mattered. I never had the chance to apologize. Tears sting at my eyelids as I force them shut and shunt the images and emotions to a distant corner of my mind. Just because I know not do do it doesn't mean I won't. I keep reading.

"HEY there SISTER. GOT MY THINK on a LOT OF SHIT. DROPPIN the mother FUCKIN KNOW on MYSELF. I'm ALL SORTS OF TIRED of thinkin I AINT GOOD ENOUGH, or other BROS thinkin the SAME DAMN THING. Gots me so thoughts on the HARSHWHIMSY are HARD TO FIGHT OFF. (I see a smear of blood underlining harshwhimsy.) I got a SICK BURNING in my protein chute EVERY TIME I think about how much I want to DROP THE BONE ON SOMEONE. been so long since I up and painted the walls with some blood of a MOTHERFUCKER WHAT DESERVES IT. but they don't, really. BUT THEY MOTHERFUCKING DO. EVERYONE DOES. I AINT got no more MIRTHFUL MESSIAHS to look up to no more, that was all a MOTHERFUCKING LIE. FUCK DAVE STRIDER. HONK HONK HONK HONK (That goes on for awhile.)"

"hey sis. sometimes i get so motherfuckin sad. ITS LIKE MY SOUL GOT RIPPED TO MOTHERFUCKIN SHREDS. i want to be around my ninjas, but i DONE FUCKED UP BAD. can shit like that ever go away? OR DOES IT STAY PERMANENT LIKE? i ain't got the know on that mess. I USED TO PRAY when the noise in my head got too bad. OR EAT SOPOR. but i gots nothing DAYS IT HURTS SO BAD I CAN'T EVEN BREATHE. just hide out in the meteor, waiting for the air to come back. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO STOP MYSELF FROM KILLING MOTHERFUCKERS WHEN ALL I IMAGINE IS PAINTING THEIR BLOOD ON THE WALLS?! i know that's not who i am, but i'd be a motherfucking liar if i said i don't want to, sometimes. THE FUCKING MESSIAHS TAKE UP SO MUCH ROOM IN MY PAN SOMETIMES THERE AIN'T ANY LEFT FOR ME. i fucking hate the motherfucker i see in the reflective surface. I HATE HIM SO MUCH I WISH KARKAT HAD CULLED HIM. it would have been so much easier."


	20. Chapter 20

I close the journal and sigh as I put my head back. I don't try to restrain the tears flowing down my face. I don't have to keep cool for anyone right now. I really THINK about what the journals are telling me. As I suspected, Gamzee is exhibiting signs of self-hate (worthlessness), anger (abandonment and fear), depression, and anxiety. I also see signs of disassociation, via the voices and violent mood-swings. Karkat's analysis also confirms my initial diagnosis, supplementing the list with sleeplessness, poor eating habits, and extreme personality vacillation. If it is dissociative personality disorder, I can conclude three things, the onset was most likely the neglect Gamzee suffered as a child, intensified by Sburb, and tipped over the edge when Dave revealed to him the fallacy of the "Mirthful Messiahs." That's the easy part. Now we have to set a plan to navigate Gamzee back to familiar waters, and teach him how to stay there.

Despite the ordered planning in my head, my body doesn't seem keen to listen. I choke on sob after sob, waiting patiently for them to subside. Clearly reading Gamzee's entries has triggered some of my own issues. However, knowing the logical answer doesn't necessarily provide relief. I clutch my sides tightly, attempting to quiet myself by biting down on my lips as a virtual parade of unwelcome thoughts charge through my mind. The tears still refuse to subside. A yell echoes down the hallway. Oh hell on earth! "LISTEN FUCKWAD, SHE SAID SHE NEEDED TO READ THAT SHIT ^ALONE,^ AND WE SHOULD WAIT FOR HER! WHO KNOWS WHAT KIND OF WEIRD MIND FUCKERY SHE CAN PULL OFF IF YOU MAKE HER ANGRY! SHE'S A FURIOUS WIZARD! (will they ever let me live that down?!)" I hear scuffling of feet at the entrance of the musclebeast lab. "THERE, SEE?! NO-ONE HERE. CAN WE JUST GO BACK AND WAIT NOW, YOU SHAMBLING MOUNTAIN OF PUSTULE-LADEN ASSES?! WE'VE CHECKED EVERY INCH OF THIS FUCKING METEOR AND COME UP WITH LESS THAN FUCK ALL. HELL, SHE COULD BE HOVERING IN THE VERY ETHER OF THE NEGAVERSE FOR ALL WE FUCKING KNOW ABOUT HER AND HER DAMNED MAGICS!"

PaP! "ShOoSh, my motherfucker. I'ma go back in a minute." Their footsteps stop below my hiding place. Someone takes a deep sniff underneath the opening of the vent, and I just see the tips of the ass-mountain's horns through the cover. I figure the jig is up, picking up the journals in my captchalouge. "AUUGH, YOU ASSHOLE! I FUCKING GUARANTEE SHE WILL BE THERE, IN HER ROOM, AND I SWEAR TO THE GOGS IN THE VOID I WILL DO A JIG OF I TOLD YOU SO RIGHT IN YOUR BULLSHIT IDIOT FACE!" Feet walk slowly towards the door. I'm torn between laughing and crying, but I cover my mouth studiously to avoid making sounds. Maybe they haven't noticed after all. Tears stream a miserable river over my wrist as I wait for them to leave. Out of sheer curiosity, I peek through the cover to watch them leave. Karkat turns out of the door without a second look, but Gamzee freezes like electricity has him rooted to the floor. He turns his head back, sniffing this way and that. He looks directly into my eyes with a joyous 'Haha! Found You!' expression written clearly on his face. Welp, fuck. My jig is most certainly up.

I scoot towards the vent cover, but he puts a hand up as if to stop me. What is this damnable clown up to? He pokes his head around the door frame to call to his moirail"Yo bro, I'll catch you up in Rosesis' room. Don't wanna miss that fly as hell dance and all." "AARUGERASSDFASDF, FINE! LOOK TO YOUR HEART'S CONTENT, CLOWNFUCK!" Karkat's feet beat a swift retreat down the hall. As his steps fade away, the juggalo glides back to the vent silently like a smiling ghost. "Move over, my fine motherfucker!" I roll my eyes and scoot back, scrubbing furiously at my eyes, which refuse to stop their leaking. I silently curse the entity that made tear ducts. My dignity rattles its death wail as the vent cover is noisily taken off and discarded. Without so much of a grunt of effort, the clown nimbly leaps and perches on the very edge of the duct with an arrogant smile. "Been playing hide and seek with your ass all day my ninja! What's a miracle sister like yourself doin all up in a vent?"

I turn my back to him obstinately, I will not cry in front of a patient. I refuse. "I had been enjoying my privacy." The acidity in my voice is weak, wobbling on the last word. I still can't control the veritable fountain that is my face, nor the hacking half-sobs quietly wrenching themselves out of my throat with abandon. "Aw, sister, don't be holdin it all in! Shit, I up an cry like a motherfuckin waterfall some days." He weasels his arms around my waist, pulling me bodily to his lap. My traitorous carapace molds to his, his smell already familiar. (faint grape and musk under all of the aromatherapy oils.) I can't even speak, mewling and sniffling piteously into his shirt. He hums a wordless song, stroking my back and nuzzling my hair. "It'll be okay, Rosesis. You got the motherfuckin know to up and fix alla this shit."

His voice is husky, smoky, seductive. It jolts me with a rush of adrenaline. I feel awful, like I'm taking advantage of him. This has to stop. I focus on reigning in my sobs first, forcing myself to breathe deep and low. His hum synchronizes and vibrates along with my efforts, his hand kneading my shoulders in reassurance. I can't help but think how nice it is. Bad Brain! "That's right, my motherfuck, just breathe. Breathe in alla that magic you got, let out all the bad shit. You got this." His chin rests delicately on the top of my head, his throat pushed close to my ear. I can hear every sound he makes. It's fascinating how many tones he produces in one hum. Like a little symphony. I catch myself reaching towards the source of the noise, instead forcing my hand to push away from his chest.

"Gamzee...this. This is something we have to talk about." His hand cradles my chin, turning it upwards. "What's there to talk about, Rosesis? Just making a motherfucker feel better and shit." His thumb traces the trail of my slowly drying tears with a sad smile. I hate to admit to myself that I really do feel better. This is so wrong. Ten shades of fucked up wrong. "Ain't like we done something wrong. Gotta get your cry on, is all." He releases my face and ruffles my hair. "Come on, we gotta go find my grumpy brother 'fore he blows up on another motherfucker. Bro gets a wicked mad on when I'm not around." He slides out of the vent with an acrobat's grace, turning around dutifully to catch me. I will not be shown up by a double jointed clown! I gracefully summon up a short burst of power, gliding to the ground like a leaf in the wind. He smiles gleefully, "See! That's my miracle sister." The way he says 'my' grates on my nerves a little. Grabbing my hand, he pulls me out of the room like an excited toddler with a new friend.


	21. Chapter 21

When we return to my room, I excuse myself from Karkat's quizzical eyes to straighten up in the bathroom. I can only imagine the conclusions he's drawing. My face is a mess, my hair is rumpled, and I think I see a smear of that damn clown's makeup on my cheek. I scrub vigorously, willing my embarrassment to leave with the soap bubbles going down the drain. Deep. Breath. Deeper than any you've ever taken. Let it out. I walk back into the room, using magic to freshen up candles and incense, captchaloging the table and chairs, and pulling the beanbags towards a more central location in the room. I place mine separately from Gamzee's and Karkat's to afford myself some PROFESSIONAL breathing room. Time to separate the mice from the women.

"I've read over both of your journals from the last week, and first allow me to thank you both for being so honest with me. It takes a great deal of trust to speak discomfiting truths, and I am glad you feel comfortable enough to express yourselves to me." Karkat crosses his arms over his chest with a huff, a pained expression of 'yeah, well..'. "No problem chica, I'm all about up and makin a motherfucker's life easier. Felt good to write down some wicked secrets, girl." Gamzee's over sharing is endearing. "Since it was such a helpful tool for this first week, I would like both of you to continue with your writing, if that is acceptable?" I take out their journals and hand them back, Gamzee accepting his with a grin, Karkat with a scowl. "Yeah, sure. I just love writing about my fuckup of a clown moirail." Gamzee paps him. "No worries sister!"

"Now to business. I'd like to set down a few rules for therapy." They both nod. "During sessions, I will not hold back the truth from you. Nor should you from me. Honest communication is key to effecting positive change. When I make recommendations for modifications of behavior, medications, or anything else, realize that you are the patient, and have a voice. If you are not comfortable with a course of action I have laid out, say so. I will do my best to accommodate you. Do not expect immediate results. The mind is much like the flesh of our bodies, taking time to heal properly." Fuck I regret saying that. I glance quickly at Gam, who seems unaffected.

I continue, "It would be ridiculous for a person to expect a bone to set and heal within a day, or even a week. Just as it would be foolish for one to think that the mind will heal overnight. Therapy is a long road, and there are absolutely no shortcuts. There will be trial and error, there will be days when you regret walking in the door. It is the nature of progress that at times we make headway, and other times we fall back. Are there any questions?" Karkat shifts uncomfortably, "So you have no idea how long this hoofbea..." Gamzee snakes out a hand and squeezes Kar's knee, and he gulps before continuing, "how long this will take? Didn't you have a vision about this shit?" I shake my head gravely, "I saw that he was well, I saw he was important. Unfortunately, there was no timetable established." He rumbles an assent begrudgingly.

Gamzee screws up his face, thinking, "So, how often are you gonna up and talk to a brother? Like, every day I should be expecting a miracle of some of your word voodoo, or more periodic like?" Actually, I hadn't really considered. "I suppose at first, we should have regular meetings three to four times a week. As you improve, we can cut back. And yes, Karkat, you will have to be present for all of them until I say otherwise." He groans with his face into a pillow before looking up at me with a scowl. "Do you at least know what's wrong with this chucklefuck?" I look at him sharply, "I do. And he does not have a problem. He needs help. Don't be a douchebag." He blushes as Gamzee giggles, "Aw shit, brother! She done told you! HAHAHA!" His face sobers, "But what is wrong with my thinkpan, miracle sister? Drop some words on the subject."

My shoulders tense. I didn't want to breach this until a little later, but I guess now is as good a time as any. "Based on the responses in your journals, along with observation from your friends and myself, I've come to the conclusion that you may have a dissociative personality disorder." Their eyes collectively widen with incomprehension. "A dissociative disorder is one in which a person creates one or more personalities to deal with stressful or upsetting events. They do so in order to protect themselves from said events and the emotions connected to them. Some experience these dissociative events as a dispassionate outsider, watching the events occur while the other personality deals with it, or as a complete blackout in their memory, as if it never occurred. From what I've seen in your writing, Gamzee, I would imagine that the former is more true than the latter?" He looks at me blankly. "I mean, you are aware when you have violent episodes?" He blinks and mumbles, "Yeah, I up and got my rememberin on for the things I've done. Sorry." He bows his head as Karkat pats his shoulder.

"No, that is quite all right. Everyone experiences trauma differently." His shoulders quake with a sob, and Karkat scoots closer to hug and pap his moirail. Time to roll for a save! "But before we mire ourselves in details, I'd like to get to know you a bit better. I know that you've mentioned that baking and making sick fires are a favorite pass time of yours." He sniggers weakly at my poor attempt at street cred. I remember to pull out the tart I made with Karkat out of my captchalog, along with some Faygo, which make his eyes light up like Christmas. "I'd like to know what makes you happiest. It doesn't have to be a single thing, mind you. Make a list if you need to."

He hmms as he strokes the back of Karkat's head absently, "Well, I like making this motherfucker right here happy." I think if Karkat could melt into the floor, he would, "Actually, I like making everybody happy. It's fun to laugh with your friends, you know? Um, I like to paint my wicked testament on in the morning, though I ain't got no-one to testify to no more." He furrows his brow and shifts uneasily in the beanbag, " I...like talking to you?" I smile encouragingly. "Good. That's good Gamzee. What's the happiest moment or moments of your life?" Karkat looks as if to say 'What's with the happy horse shit?' but I shoosh him with a look.

A lazy grin breaks over his face like a sunrise."I guess the happiest moment I got in mind is meeting this motherfucker for the first time. We was up and getting schoolfed, and some big-ass motherfucker was getting rude with my bro for not wearin his colors on his sleeve like every other ninja in the room. I got mad when he pushed my Karbro in the dirt, so I up and took some whimsical fancy up against the side of his head. He got scared cuz he was just a greenblood and all and ran away. Karbro here didn't even say thanks to a motherfucker, just punched me in the shoulder and called me a fuckass. I never laughed so hard in my motherfucking life. Such a little dude up and getting rudenasty with me tickled my humor bone. I asked if he wanted to be friends and he did the cute thing where he rolls his eyes and said yes. I ain't never had a friend before him so I was up and excited as hell. He sat with me at lunch that day and yelled at me for forgetting mine, so he gave me half of his. Brother's always yelling, but I know it's cuz he cares. Made me feel good to know someone cared about me." I swear I saw a tear on Karkat's face, but before I can get a look, his face is dry. "That's a sweet story, Gam! I have to ask, do you find it difficult to believe people care for you?"

His head jerks up in my direction, wide-eyed, "I...uhm. I guess? Been feelin since my goat dad didn't care for me none, I..shouldn't...be?" I nod. I hate myself for asking the question, because I sure as hell wouldn't want to answer it, "Why do you connect your lusus' love or care with your self worth?" His face becomes inscrutable, "I just do." Touchy subject, return to it later. "That's okay, most people would say the same thing. How do you show you care about other people?" His easy grin returns, and he flops across the beanbags, lying across Karkat's disgruntled lap. He picks up Karkat's hand and starts playing with it absently, (Note to self, get toys to play with during sessions.) "I like to up and remind people not to take shit so serious. Like this silly fucker here, he's always too serious. I act as undignified as a motherfucker can so's I can get him to laugh. It ain't that hard, really. We got enough trouble with out no drama goin on. Motherfucker, when did you up and get nail paint?" Karkat's face pales before he snarls, "How the fuck is that relevant to the conversation, shit ape?" He honks a chuckle, "Damn bro, just got an ask on is all."

I think he forgot what he was talking about. Steer the ship back on course! "Anything else you do to show others you care for them?" He stops papping Karkat's angry face to steal a sly smile at me, " I guess I up and listen to a motherfucker what needs it, let them all cry it out on my shoulder an shit. Makes a brother feel real important when he can do that for somebody." I really hope Karkat doesn't pick up on this. This is one delicate tango. "Ummm, and bake? I used to cook up some wicked confectioneries for my brothers and sisters, but I ain't gots no more slime to cook with."

I make a dubious face at Karkat who shrugs in return, "You realize slime isn't the only thing one can bake, correct?" He smiles to himself privately, "Yeah, but it's the most fun. Motherfuckers be saying some wild wicked miracles to you when they eat the slime. Like this one time, my brother Kar here got into a wicked pie with a brother and he told me about how he was flu..." Karkat literally stuffs his hand into Gamzee's mouth. "Cool it, fuckass. Baking makes you happy. That is all that needs to be said on the matter, asshole." Gamzee smiles languidly around his fist as Karkat pulls it out with a scream, "JEGUS FUCK, GAM! I AM NOT A GLOBULAR STICK CANDY!" He hauls himself out from under Gam's shoulders, which are quirking with a shameless mirth, and stomps off to the bathroom.

Much of the session passes in the same way. I can tell the two are starting to become bored and tired, so I decide it is time to finish up. "Gamzee, I believe our session for the day is done. There are a few things I'd like you to think about for our next meeting. Firstly, since dissociative disorders are pervasive, I'd like to give you medicine to help you maintain control over your moods." He frowns, "Like mother-fucking sopor? I don't want no more rust on my thinkpan. Got myself so I can see the world clear again." I change tactics, getting up to sit next to him.

He looks pleased, settling an arm around me as I speak, "No, not like sopor. It's more of a sedative, so you don't have the highs and lows that you've expressed in your journal and session today. The herbs I've chosen to use are non-addictive. The medication should not be a permanent part of your life, nor should it alter your personality radically. As I said before, it's something I want you to think about." His lips twitch up to a shrug, "Okay. I guess." He gives me a sidelong look, "What else you want me to get my think on?"

I smile, because this should turn up some interesting results. "When you journal over the next few days, I'd like you to keep a running list of the things that have made you happy, big or little. Obviously I still want you to keep track of your moods and such, but just think of this as an extra little assignment." I stand up, stretching. "I will see you in two day's time. And that, my friends, is the end of our session, any last questions before you go?" Karkat nods in negative vigorously. "Jegus's smooth bone bulge, I thought this fuck festival was never going to end. Come on, Gam, let's get you to your room." He holds a hand out to help his friend up, who looks a bit mutinous.

"Do we have to go?" he asks, throwing the troll equivalent of puppy dog eyes in my direction. Stay firm! "I'm afraid so, Gamzee. I need to speak with Kanaya about a few things before the end of the day. I'm probably going to be in the library for quite some time with her. If you have any other questions, or need me for something, just send me a message on Trollian. I'll keep my husktop with me. Okay?" The gloom lifts from his face at the opportunity to pester me the rest of the day on the computer, and he willingly takes Kar's hand.

"Okay my motherfucker! Kar, can we get something to eat? That pie was good and all," I don't bother correcting him. What's the point? "But I got me a need for some oinkbeast in the worst way, you know?" Karkat staggers a little as Gamzee pulls himself up, grunting with effort, "Yeah sure you giant black hole. Fucking giant eats all gogdamn day and doesn't gain a pound, lucky bastard." Gamzee honks and pokes Kar's belly, "Aww brother, don't be sad none about that extra you got round your middle, makes hugs more comfortable like! Shit! I got my first little thing that makes me happy!" "Shut up, asshat."Karkat leads him out of room irritably as Gam smiles and waves. Finally alone, I smile a little in congratulations to myself.


	22. Chapter 22

After my workout in metal acuity, I change into a comfortable pair of jeans and a tee shirt. Because, seriously, screw skirts. I ruminate over my discoveries today on the way to the library; as expected, Gamzee is far more comfortable speaking about others than he is himself. Actually pretty par. Most of his episodes now are driven by guilt rather than anger, which is a positive sign. Except when he has a rage boner over me. Let's talk about how that's not awesome. Talking about Dad is going to take some trust on his part, so it may have to wait awhile. But overall he seems to genuinely still care for his friends, which may make things a bit easier over time. I really wish I could write this all down, stupid all powerful time traveling monster. I'm so immersed in my own thoughts I almost don't see Dave and Terezi until I bump into them. They present a united front of crossed arms and frowny faces. I thought they had agreed to Gamzee's therapy?

"Since when has therapy included the molestation of my sister?" WHAT. "Let me tell you Dave, that is a wonderful conversation starter." I look at Terezi, who is less than helpful with a shrug. "What I fucking said is since when, is my sister, required to participate in a a space boner apocalypse? A fucking holocaust of nightmarish tentabulges from the worst animes you've ever seen up in motherfucking sexual congress with My. Freakin. Sister." My eyebrows are so high in space they've met with the singularity. "First of all, Dave, please control your latent homosexual urges. I will not have talk of space boners in front of company. Tentacled or not." I really hope not. "Secondly, I have not had a single vision, dream, or nightmare with any type of boner near my person ever. So I don't know why you are upset. Would you mind starting from the beginning of this conversation rather than the middle?"

He gives me A Look, which is never good. "You might not have had dreams of hugemongous space tentacle boner," Terezi raises an eyebrow, interrupting, "Dave." He ignores her and continues, "but my girl Terezi over here has. Dreams of monster space cock. Abducting my sister and absconding with her to gog only knows where to commit atrocities with his twisting, writhing..." Terezi drubs Dave on the side of the head with her cane. "Dave, we talked about this." Only he would. "There are no tentacle penii to be found on this meteor, unless you go into the musclebeast lab. Then you could make one, if that makes you happy." Dave blushes lightly as she turns her attention to me, "I did See a vision of you, and Gamzee, in a compromising position." Oh fuck my life. In the face. She continued, "I could not tell when, but I am concerned." It occurs to me we are having this conversation in a public hallway, very near the kitchen.

My face turns redder than a pre-flamebroiled hamburger. "Shall we discuss this vision of yours somewhere more private? And without Dave?" Talk of boners and my brother simply do not mix. Ever. Dave moves to protest, but a future Dave comes, whispers in his ear, and disappears. His face pales as he gulps, "Oh fuck this shit. I don't need to hear anymore about space boners. Just...don't do anything stupid. You're too genetically superior for stupid. Just. Augh. " He shivers slightly and walks off, muttering something about blowing up Zerg.

Terezi's room is brightly decorated, vivid colors chalked all over the walls. I wonder if Dave helped her do this, but I don't think I really want to ask. She settles herself in a pile of plush stuffed dragons, "So..." Yeah, this is a conversation I want to have. Never. Ever. Did I say never? "Terezi, why don't you explain this from the beginning. What you saw, what emotions, or connotations you felt." I can't sit still, instead choosing to pace while she speaks. She rubs behind a horn (that must be a universal nervous twitch) before speaking, " Rose, it was only a flash, you and Gamz were in a...flushed embrace," Her cheeks turn teal, "you both looked pretty happy about it." I nod, and then feel stupid for nodding. She's blind.

"Okay. What emotions or other feelings did you experience?" She takes a deep breath. "Well, nothing felt overwhelming or evil, I didn't sense force, or anything like that. It felt natural. Like it was supposed to happen. But I don't think you understand what it is to date a Subjugglator." I roll my eyes. "Oh trust me, Karkat has told me alll about it. I am a veritable encyclopedia of Subjugglator romance. Let me tell you how thrilled I was about that conversation." She cackles, "Hehehe! Yeah, Karkles can really lay it on thick. It's sweet. He's tried so hard for us the last two years to keep that honking asshole in check. I'm actually glad you've stepped up to help him. I think he was starting to wear out, even though he'd never admit to it, silly bastard." I decide to be a smartass. "Maybe you'll finally get a chance to spend some alone time together?" She squeaks and throws a stuffie at me. "Oh my gog LaLonde! You don't just SAY stuff like that!" My grin widens, she's on the run!

"Didn't you just do the same to me? What if I had visions of heated embraces and told him about it?" She gasps and launches herself at me, "You didn't! OH MY GOG IN BACON HEAVEN! Please please please tell me you didn't!" She tugs my shirt into her fists and shakes violently. I laugh hysterically. "No, I have not. Nor have I had visions in that respect. Do me a favor and keep your smutty visions to yourself?" She nods so fast it looks like her head might fall off. Inspiration strikes me. "Um, so how does troll sex work, exactly? I couldn't ask Karkat when he was telling me about Subjug romance, it would have been too awkward." Not like it isn't now. Because I totally want to talk about sex with someone that converses with Dave on a regular basis. That's a thing that happens. Oh my gog shut up brain.

She laughs again, leading me to the pile of plushies, indicating for me to sit. "I've spoken to Dave about human sexuality, so I know the basics of how it works." That impudent little monster! Bad Dave! "Troll sex isn't much different, really. Female trolls are similar to human females, from a genital aspect. The seed flap is a little harder to open, because our skin is reinforced with chitin? But other than that, it's pretty much the same. Our males are only different from yours in that their, ah, bulges, are retractable. I never mentioned that to Dave, he was only interested in the girls, anyway." I smirk, "He always is." She sniggers,"Yeah, so, they are retractable, and their nooks are sensitive." I frown, "Nooks?" She blushes deeper, "Oh, the guy equivalent of a seed flap. They're sensitive to touch." Oh. Right then. I might as well milk this horrible conversation for all it's worth. "Subjugglators don't do anything...weird...during sex, right? No violence or anything?"

She arches me a dirty, knowing look, "No, nothing violent unless their partner wants it. They do tend to like kinky stuff, though. Paddling and tying up and whatnot." Gogdamnit. "That's totally not what I saw though, just looked like normal type stuff. Most troll girls dream about hooking up with a Subjug. There are so many romance novels written about it, it's not even funny." I shake my head wryly, "Going for the bad boy must be a universal trait. Anything else you want to tell me? And do you have any of those novels? I finished the one I stole from Karkles ages ago." She snorts a laugh, "No, and yes. I've got a whole freakin collection. But the pages have been licked, so..." I grin, "I'll deal. Anything to break up the monotony at this point." She waggles her eyebrows back at me, "Oh you'll be breaking it up, all right." I gently push her shoulder as she cackles and goes over to her bookshelf. "Maybe you can finally spend some quality allooooooooonnnnnnneeeeee time with Karkat now!" She shrieks a laugh and tosses me a book, "OH MY GOG GET OUT OF MY HIVE YOU HORRIBLE WOMAN!" Catching it easily I give her my regards and return to my quest of speaking with Kanaya in the library. I hear honking suspiciously nearby, but I cannot see or sense it's source. Hmm. I'd call him out, but yeah. No.


	23. Chapter 23

Kanaya is busily reading when I finally make my way to the library. I was able to ninja my way into the kitchen unmolested, retrieving tea and lemon cookies. She looks up with a lovely smile, "It is good to see you, Rose, I take it your first session with the clown went well?" I'm impressed she can remain so upbeat. "Yes, the results of his first session seem to be rather positive. I'm working on setting up a regimen of medicine and aromatherapy for him to use should he accept to use them." She frowns, tilting her head, "Why would he refuse? It would be foolish to question the directives of the Seer of Light, would it not?" I hand her a teacup, "It is true that I am the Seer, but that is not the capacity in which I am working with him. As a patient, he has the right to consent or disagree with my directives, because to force him or do otherwise would just be counter-productive. I need him to trust me, not fear or dislike." She nods, chewing on her next thought until giving it voice, "And what about his flushed feelings for you?" GOGDAMNIT WHY WON'T THIS CONVERSATION LEAVE ME ALONE?!

I sigh, deciding on a dodge, "Why does everyone already know about this?" She looks down with a blush, "Oh. It is a troll trait. When one becomes flushed for another, their scent changes to incorporate their own, and that of their intended. He has smelt of grape and rose for a week now. Sorry. Is it safe for you to reciprocate at this point?" Her eagerness at the question makes me suspicious. "Honestly, Kan, I do not know. Terezi has seen...some things on the matter. Please don't ask. I would want to be certain of a stable mental state before considering anything else. Regardless, it is not why I am here. What do you have to tell me about the scrolls you found?" I effectively end the romantic inquisition. Her pout does not escape my notice.

"I have unearthed a few more scrolls concerning Death, specifically his Handmaiden. If I am guessing correctly, I believe the former Handmaiden here is Aradia's ancestor. According to these accounts written by the Signless' Disciple, she and the First Guardian manipulated events on Alternia to create players for Sgrub that would be capable of winning the game. In her writings, she said that troll society was peaceful, which in turn provided poor candidates for Sgrub. They were forced to scratch the session and begin anew, which you may remember from our conversation with Aranea. The Handmaiden and the guardian assured that troll society would be violent enough to prepare the new crop of heroes for a reiteration of the game. They had a hand in everything, from the conception of the Condece, to the revolutions of the Signless and future uprising of the Summoner. There's also hint that she may have had a hand in the creation of our relationship structures, but it is not elaborated on. I believe she and the Guardian did everything in their power to make our society the exact opposite of what it was when she was still alive." Her voice had become more acidic as her speech went on. She remains quiet for a moment, until I see a quake in her shoulders, "Are you all right, Kan?"

Her cool demeanor slides away as she breaks into full, convulsive sobs, "I'm...Just, So, Angry! Why would they do these awful things? She betrayed her people, for what? A monster? Why would she just give in! I..." Her last words are obscured in sobs, and her teacup rattles violently in her saucer. Joining her on the couch, I take it from her quivering hands to place it on the table. As I sit back up, she grabs me in a sobbing embrace, placing her head on my shoulder. I angle my neck to avoid her horns and pat her shoulders. "Shhh...it's okay, Kan. I know." Her sobs slowly turn to sniffles as I rub her shoulders and back, "And now, you...you have to become matespirits with that...monster! It makes me so angry, I just." she huffs angrily. "It doesn't seem right, to me. He is too dangerous."

I arch an eyebrow laconically, imitating his slow smile, "Was it not you who said that you should not question the visions of the Seer?" She makes a sound that is dangerously close to a raspberry and cuddles into my shoulder. Wait. Yep. That's a cuddle. I have to discover the secrets of my attractiveness to the trolls and cut it the fuck out. "Thank you for the research, Kan. Actually, the bit you said about your relationship structure sounds a bit like a theory I had myself. I tried to talk to Karkat about it, since he is the resident guru, but..." She chuckles under my chin, "That didn't go over too well? Gog, you might as well have tried to convince him his shoes don't exist!"

A grin teases the edges of my lips, "I suppose so. And in regards to the troll society being manipulated. Though it may not seem so, it may work out in our favor that it was. Without the abilities of yourself and your comrades, all of our efforts would be for naught." I pause, thinking how to best word it, "Without healing Gamzee's mind, we would have little hope of destroying Lord English AND his minions. We need him at his best. I need you all to be at your best." She hmmms and slumps onto my lap, staring absently into space. I'm too hot for my own good. "There was also mention, in the very last of her scrolls, that there was a hero that would retain the power of the Time Maiden," I roll my eyes, "Dave or Aradia." She shakes her head, "No, not at all. The holder of her power would be...whimsical." That gets my attention. Great. Time-traveling horny clown. Awesome. I must have frowned at the news, because I feel a pap on my forehead. "Retain your calm, LaLonde. It may indeed be a good thing. You said we needed an unpredictable character to defeat L.E, and what better unpredictability than a time traveler?" I scratch my chin in a show of mock thought. "I suppose." It's then I hear the tinny 'ding' of my husktop.

As I squirm uncomfortably under Kanaya and reach for it, I hear several more dings in succession. Not good. I open the top to see several chums lit up, not least to mention Dave and Karkat.

**TerminallyCapricious has begun trolling TentacleTherapist**

TC: HoNk! =0)I gOt Me AnOtHeR tHiNg ThAt MaKeS mE hApPy! MeSsAgInG mY RoSeSis! HoNk HoNk!

TC: SeE yOu LaTeR, cHiCa!

**TerminallyCapricious has ceased trolling TentacleTherapist**

**Turntechgodhead has begun pestering TentacleTherapist**

TG: Yo rose. Just wanted to let you know,

TG: I'm going to tell Karkat's troglodyte boyfriend to step off.

TG: That isn't a thing.

TG: That should happen, like ever.

TG: I don't care what Rezi says, there are slippery tentacle boners everywhere on this ship.

TG: It's like we are under attack, and I'm the Sugoi sword master that must protect the innocent or some shit.

TG: Otherwise your life will literally be the basis for the shittiest anime ever.

TG: And that, is all that needs to be said on the matter.

**Turntechgodhead has ceased pestering TentacleTherapist**

Oh. My. GOD. Why?

**CarcinoGeneticist has begun trolling TentacleTherapist**

CG: LALONDE! GET YOUR BLOND ASS OUT TO THE COMPUTER LAB!

CG: YOUR STUPID BROTHER IS IN HERE MESSING WITH GAMZEE, SOMETHING ABOUT SKY BONERS, AND I SWEAR TO FUCK IF HE DOESN'T STOP SOON HE IS GOING TO EAT HIM, AND I WON'T BE RESPONSIBLE FOR IT!

CG: GOGDAMNIT LALONDE! PICK UP YOUR HUSKTOP YOU USELESS PINK MONKEY! I CAN'T HOLD HIS NARROW CLOWN ASS BACK MUCH LONGER!

CG: OH GOG!

**CarcinoGeneticist has ceased trolling TentacleTherapist.**

Al;sdfjasdkl;fj. My hot life. Fuck. It. So hard. And so Angrily.


	24. Chapter 24

Without a second thought, I throw my husktop on the table, and extricate myself from Kanaya's grasp. "What's wrong, Rose? Has something happened?" I don't want her involved, it will just make it worse. "Oh, um, just a sudden need to hit the gaper." Facepalm x2! She makes a disgusted face, but makes no move to follow me. As soon as the door shuts behind me, I break into a sprint down the hallway. Until I realize magic is faster, then I blast the rest of the way. I hear the scuffle before I see it. Metal clanging and cussing ring from the computer room. I whisper a few words of the eldritch to give me the boost I need to break down the door. Because fuck doors, that's why.

The sound of the door crashing to the ground does not make the strifers stop. If anything it's merely a background noise to the hellish ruckus being caused in the room. Snarling and yelling emanate from every corner. I can barely see either, the bastards are flash stepping. The computer room is a mess, computers and desks strewn around in ruin. The room explodes around me as I rush to Karkat in the corner. I feel like I'm in the worst action movie ever, 'Two nerds try to kill each other.' He screams, directly into my ear, ow, "STUPID FUCK WOULDN'T SHUT UP ABOUT YOU AND SPACE BONERS! I'D LAUGH RIGHT NOW IF I WASN'T BUSY PISSING MY PANTS. IF STRIDER KEEPS THIS UP HE'S GOING TO HAVE A KISMESIS, AND THEN HE'LL REALLY BE FUCKED! THAT GOGDAMN CLOWN IS GOING TO RIP HIM LIMB FROM LIMB! " I hear a howl of pain behind me, and Dave's voice, "Oh no, you don't motherfucker! Keep those grabby ass hands away!" I try to focus on the fighters, but it's pointless. I don't even have time to punch Dave, he flashes away like a shadow.

I pat Karkat's shoulder comfortingly, "I have an idea." He yells again, "WELL HURRY THE FUCK UP! WE DON'T HAVE ALL GOGDAMN DAY TO NATTER ABOUT LIKE TWO FUCKING FEMALE PECKBEASTS! JEGUS!" Choosing to ignore his sexist jab, I send out a web of power, encompassing the room, with which any movement or contact will be immediately held immobile. Before long, I finally see the two in the far side of the room, tangled helplessly and still yelling, "IT AIN'T HARD TROGLODYTE! JUST KEEP YOUR SPACE DICK IN YOUR PANTS! DAMN! SHE'S MY FUCKING SISTER, ASSHOLE!" How does that boy keep his poker face in the middle of a fight?

"FUCKING BLASPHEMER! YOUR MOTHERFUCKING BLOOD WILL BE MY PAINT, YOUR BONES I'LL CRUSH INTO MY SPECIAL STARDUST! Just wait until i get down. i'll rip you limb from limb, and fuck the carcass! your ancestors will moan for the enormities i do to you." ...Wow. Angry murder clown mode it is. I don't have a great deal of time before Gamzee gets free, and there is no way I'm leaving him near a tied up and helpless Dave . I twitch my hand, bringing Gamzee closer to myself and Karkat. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, ROLAL? HE'LL KILL YOU! I TOLD YOU HE WAS A FUCKED UP KILLER SPACE CLOWN! JEGUS CHRIST! STOP YOU IDIOT!"

I glare and shake my head at Dave, "If you had just left well enough alone, everything would be fine. Time and events are malleable, as you're well aware. But now it's too late, and we are not going to fuck up the Alpha timeline for your bullshit shenanigans and Freudian craving for space cock." He makes a strangled noise as I cover his mouth with another tendril of magic. I turn my full attention to Gamzee, who is clearly in the throes of a dissociative episode. His head rolls and teeth snap behind me as I help Karkat to his feet. "An episode can be disrupted if we can distract the secondary personality. We are going to coordinate our efforts, you shoosh and pap him." Karkat nods, running to his moirail to begin the process. I can feel the bindings stretching and popping under the stress of Gamzee's efforts to get away. Karkat dances in a delicate balance, papping his friend and avoiding his horns. I will myself to not enjoy my next action.

I walk slowly into Gamzee's line of view, catching his eye. His head stops bucking in an attempt to stab Karkat. Progress. I walk towards him, hands up in a submissive posture. His eyes scour every inch of my body, a nasty smirk on his face. "HEY ALIEN GIRl. coME HeRE." Karkat is already having an effect, the color of his retinas flicking between red and gold. Reaching my destination, I gently push Karkat to his side. "Keep going." I give Gamzee a long hard look. His eyelids are beginning to take their familiar droop, but his anger hasn't subsided. His expression is the strangest combination between fear, anger, hate, and lust I've ever seen. Gogdamn. Dat Face. I inch my way towards him, until my body is touching his. I really hope he doesn't headbutt me. "HEY mamacita, WHAT you DOIN?" I push up with power until my face is level with his. I can hear Dave's muted screams and struggles, but it echoes hollow. Everything else is fading away. This is when I decide if I can really be the therapist/matespirit Gamzee needs. I don't know how, but he realizes what I'm doing. His cold sneer becomes a smoldering grin.

Fuck my hot life. I'm the matespiratherapist. It's me. I lean in, brushing my lips against his. I feel his grin melt away, replaced with a taste of the word "MiRaClEs." His lips are greedy, pushing eagerly against mine. His tongue flicks against my lips, parting them with ease. It gives me a sweet shock, it's freezing! His rhythm is heady and seductive, his lips flavored with a slight copper and grape tang. I've always loved grapes. I feel a fire in my belly, nearing inferno. I want, need, more. I Push closer than I should. I curl a hand around the back of his head, tangling my fingers in his wild hair, deepening the kiss with fervor. A throaty groan urges me on, his lips nibbling at my own. My feet touch the ground, FUCK! I lost focus!

My eyes shoot open to access the damage. All I see is indigo and gold, calm as calm can be. A goofy smile. I guess he followed me down. He winks as he whispers conspiratorially, "I think I got something else to add to my list." I blush, but motion furiously for Dave to get out of the room. When he refuses to budge, I just shove him out with magic, slamming the door back into place. Gamzee jumps when he hears the noise, looking up dazedly. "Oh, fuck, brother! I did this, didn't I?" He turns to Karkat, who is rooted to the spot with the deepest blush I've seen yet, an eye twitching at a hectic pace. Gamzee frowns and waves his hand in front of him, "Did we break him, Rosesis?"

His comment is enough to revive his moirail, "YOU BULLSHIT ASSHOLE CLOWN! I SHOULD PAP YOUR STUPID CLOWN ASS BACK TO YOUR GRUB SAUCE! YOU COULD HAVE KILLED EVERYONE! I WOULD HAVE...OH GOGDAMNIT! FUCK! MY BLOODPUSHER IS GOING FUCKING LIGHTSPEED! YOU ARE LITERALLY GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME, GAMZEE MAKARA! FUCK ME!" He pauses, catching his breath as Gamz moves closer to comfort his friend. "JEGUS CRUST! DON'T YOU TRY TO COMFORT ^ME^ YOU SHITPILE OF AN ASSCLOWN! I COULDN'T EVEN GET CLOSE TO YOU! HOORAY! ANOTHER FUCKING THING KARKAT VANTAS IS A FUCKUP AT!" Gamzee looks close to tears, dropping his hand, "I'm sorry bro, I just..I dunno. I got mad." Karkat pulls at his face. "Yes. You got mad. About spacecocks. Really, Gamz? Spacecocks? Is that a phrase I should avoid in the future?" I try, and fail, to hold in a snigger. "Oh, shut up, you. That's the second time he's gotten a rage boner over you. You are the owner of two rage boners. It's you. Have a shiny new prize and a fucking cookie." He slumps to the floor, "Gog I'm tired." Gamzee huddles next to him, patting his hand with worry, "I'm real sorry my wicked brother. I promise I won't get mad over no spacecocks no more. Ain't a real word nohow anyway."

He huffs with a faint smile playing at the edge of his frown."You're just lucky we could stop you. Fucking asshole." He burrows himself into Gamzee's shoulder, muttering platitudes. I turn away from the platonic romantic scene, surveying the damage in the computer room. The walls are dented to hell, the tables flipped, but the computers (husktops?) look mostly unmolested. I'm so not picking all this up by hand. With a few flicks of my fingers, tables right themselves, computers return to their place of origin. I feel hands on my shoulders, "Motherfucking miracles, Rosesis." His head rests on mine, "My Karbro's real tired n upset. I'm gonna take him to his room and jam, k?" I check with my Sight into the hallway. No-one is there, thankfully. I wordlessly motion him away. Gamzee pecks a kiss on the top of my head and squeezes my shoulders. "It's all good my miracle sister. We'll talk tomorrow." He turns to pick up Karkat, who squawks loudly,"GOGDAMNIT GAMZEE WE ARE NOT HUMAN MARRIED!" and strolls out of the room.

**Turntechgodhead has begun pestering TentacleTherapist**

TG: God. Damn It. LaLonde.

TG: What the fuck. You shot me halfway across the meteor.

TG: I'm glad you've got your chick boner on for tentacle cock, but I've got some valid fucking concerns.

TG: Item numero uno, "He's fucking insane." That. That is a problem, for all people involved.

TG: He could kill you. Did you see what he did in the computer room? Or did he use some weird Kawaii voodoo to make you not see the legitimate fucking damage he put down on the walls and shit?

TG: I'm all down for chicks getting down with dudes, or chicks, or dudes with dudes. But I can't see how this is going to turn out well.

TG: Fine. Don't answer me. Enjoy your monster bukkake.

**Turntechgodhead has ceased trolling TentacleTherapist.**


	25. Chapter 25

I return to my bedroom, mostly because I don't want Kanaya to smell blood and sweat on me. Or the smeared face paint. Really going to have to do something about that if this becomes a thing. Gog, am I really considering this? Am I brain-damaged or something? I keep replaying the kiss in my head. It was sweet, desperate, lustful, oh my gog what is wrong with me. I can still feel his lips forming the word miracles over my own. They were a little chilly, like he had been sucking on an ice cube. I idly wonder what those lips would feel like elsewhere as I strip down and step into the shower. BAD BRAIN! I need to get this paint off of me.

I let the hot water scald my scalp as I scrub, ruminating on the ramifications of tonight's adventures. With Karkat's and my combined efforts, we were able to 'calm the beast.' However, it is painfully obvious he is in no way ready for triggering situations. Which isn't surprising, considering he's only had one day of therapy. I must ban Dave from his presence, temporarily. Again. I'm sure he'll just be thrilled. I suppose the ban should go doubly for Kan, as well. Not that she would trigger him, but I still think she's a little trigger happy with that chainsaw. Lastly, and probably most importantly, I'm going to need to speak with Gamzee about the nature of our relationship. Joy. My lips form a wry shrug as I wonder whether Dave had earned a kimesmis tonight. What the hell does that even entail? Beat each other up and then...? It's kind of dirty to think about. And sexy. Subjugglators are into kink...hmm. Time for cold water.

I towel my hair off and comb it through, feeling very refreshed. The fluffy pink towels with meowcats on them are all about comfort. I pause on the inside of the bathroom door, checking with my Sight to make certain I have no visitors. I locked the door, but that has not stopped them before. I sprint, naked, across the room, throwing on a black version of Dave's "cool glasses for your boobs and butt" underwear. They're actually pretty comfy. I am not going out again. Shrugging a long silky camisole over my 'glasses', I appearify a hot pizza from my favorite pizza joint. MMMMMMMM pineapple and bacon! ASDFASDFAS so good. With the remote, I click on the DVD player. I've got about five movies in there that I've watched to death. Eh. Screw it. Lion King. So sue me I love Scar. Sated and entertained, I close my eyes to sleep.

Finally, a dream! But not a bubble. Hm. The Void surrounds us, enveloping the meteor in perfect black stillness. I hear screaming and yelling, but it echoes everywhere around me. There's no source to pinpoint. I spin endlessly, looking for the speaker, until I see a flash of red off in the distance. It's Aradia! I wave for her to come closer, but she keeps screaming, pounding on an invisible barrier. Well, not invisible, the rainbow colored break in paradox space. I try to rush to her aid, maybe if we work at it together she can...my feet are anchored to the meteor. I struggle to lift them from the tower, but something keeps sucking me back in it's icy embrace. I need to help her! I fight and struggle, to no avail. Her voice becomes tin, scratching at the back of my mind. The fear of being in a doomed time line looms over me. What if this is an off-branch? Oh gog how long will it take us to die!? I scream her name endlessly in the Void, shaking the meteor with the reverberations of the sound.

Waking with a start, I look into the dimness of my room as the scream transmutes itself into a worried groan. I must have tossed and turned a great deal, I don't usually sleep on my side. My blankets are suffocating me, wrapped firmly around my midsection. Beginning to worm my way out of their clutches, I freeze when I hear a husky voice behind me. "S'too early Rosesis. Commere." I'm dragged back into the clutches of a sleepy, amorous clown. Oh what the fuck. Why. How the hell did he get in here? As my back meets with his ^shirtless^ chest, seriously, what is it with him and shirts, I come to the troublesome awareness of a certain camisole being bunched around my middle as well. My scantily clad bottom is cuddled up firmly to Gamz' thighs. Delicate predicament. I have one. He breathes a happy sigh behind me, humming as he always does. It sounds faintly like 'The Circle of Life.' "Get you some sleep, miracle sister. Don't be getting your thinkpan all up in a twist at this hour." Augh. Enough with the miracles. This shit. It needs to be dealt with now. I will not be cuddled into submission.

"Gamz, let go of me this instant!" He acquiesces with a confused frown, "I up and do something wrong, mama? Didn't mean to. Kar kicked me out after our jam, he was still kinda mad, and...well, I didn't wanna sleep by myself? Ain't been alone a night since two years gone by..." Jegus. This is like kicking a Great Dane puppy. I feel like an asshole. A mountain of assholes, as Karkat would say. I still push myself off the bed, smoothing down my cammie. "This. You. There's a great deal to be spoken on this subject, and I won't do it in my nightclothes."

If I don't lay down rules now, all sorts of shenanigans may go down. I storm over to my wardrobifier and pick out my least attractive outfit, a turtleneck sweater (I feel a little chilly) and a pair of battered old jeans that probably cost too much from the store I appearified them from. I stroll over to the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind me. How the hell does one deal with this. He's needy, insecure, impossibly strong, and very dangerous. All on account of that cunt Lord English, who needed to play games to wriggle his way into our universe. I rub my temple briskly with one hand as I brush my teeth. What can I say to someone so broken so as to not aggravate their condition? I wouldn't lie and say there isn't an attraction, but I'm certainly not ready for a bed buddy. Deep breath as I walk out of the door, scanning the room for the clown. He's sullenly leaning against one of my bedposts, arms crossed in self defense. He looks ridiculous standing next to something so girly, all white and pink frills. He's practically taller than the post itself. At least he has a shirt on.


	26. Chapter 26

I call the table and chairs from my sylladex, plopping them down halfway between himself and I. I'm not walking down to the kitchen in this mood. I appearify two coffees and a plate of scones and croissants from my favorite mega-establishment from Seattle. Mmm. Caramel. I look back, he hasn't moved. I walk over and plonk my payload on the table. "Oh get over here and sit down before I call down Karkat to cull you." His voice is full of gravel when he responds, "I'd like to see a motherfucker try." He walks over with a predator's grace, sitting down smoothly in a chair across from mine. A knife-like grin sits uncomfortably on his features. "I'd put them up with the motherfucking choir of wailers in Echo Side." A mite too much like the person I don't want to be talking to at the moment. Yeah. Not good.

"Gamzee, look at me right now." He shakes his head with a start, and I can see the red leaching into his eyes. "Hand, please." His brows furrow, tilting his head with a faint smile, but gives me his left. I squeeze, giving him a 'knock it the fuck off' look before I continue. "I appreciate that you are interested in me. In fact, I'm quite flattered. But human and troll courtship seems to be vastly different. We do not just declare ourselves to one another and jump into bed." He nods, thoughtfully, "Well, a motherfucker usually don't do that from where I'm from, neither." His eyes have ceased their flickering, returning to a fine spun gold. He has the sense to look abashed. "I didn't mean to up and surprise ya, mamacita. I just didn't want to be alone on account of what all happened yesterday. Thought it would be a bad mother fucking idea to be alone. Sorry?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose, and take a sip of my frozen coffee. "Really, you're sorry for sneaking in my room for an impromptu cuddle session last night? That's a thing you're sorry for?" He smiles mutely into his coffee, getting a bit of the whipped cream on his nose. "What you should be sorry for is getting facepaint all over my pillows. And hair. And face, you sneaky bastard." He honks out a giggle, "Yeah, my cuddles was all up in ya grill, girlfriend. Karbro always says I hog up the pile or get all up and huggy with him. My bad."

I reach over and wipe the cream off, getting a fingerful of paint for my trouble. Most of it had rubbed off during the night, but remained intact over the scars I've heard so much about. I shake off the thought, getting back on target. "I see. What I'm concerned about is the fact that you've just had a serious breakdown, and the very next moment we pretend there is nothing wrong. That can take a serious toll on any relationship, be it romantic, theraputic, friend, or otherwise. We cannot make ourselves believe that 'love' is the answer for all of your problems. It isn't. Your issues require therapy and medication, should you choose to apply yourself to it." I can feel his hand stiffen at my assessment, but I continue, "That is not to say that in the future, I would not be interested in pursuing something romantic," he makes a soft, relieved honk, "but I think it would be in the best interest of everyone to make certain you are fully and completely sound before doing so. Your opinion?"

His eyes look a little glazed, I wonder if he was even listening. A thumb strokes across my knuckles as he chews thoughtfully on the end of his straw. "I gotta be honest, I'm not all up on the understanding of everything you're saying, but I get you. Gotta take shit slowlike. Ain't no race. Romance a lady proper." I feel the urge to pull out my hair, but resist. " Close, Gamz. I mean we really shouldn't do anything romantic until you're on your feet, therapeutically speaking." His face drops a little, "Even though slow is a good analogy. When I say slow, I mean, like, glacier slow. Inches over years slow." Why am I using human references? "Augh, what's slow on your planet? Like the slowest thing ever?" He flashes a quick grin, "Me." I unwillingly quirk into a grin and shake my head. "Seriously, though?"

He hems and haws for a moment, munching down an incredible number of scones. "Hmph. Welpfh" Food is still in his mouth. Gross. "I guess motherfucking shellbeasts are pretty slow. Those little miracles move about once a perigee. If at all. Cute and friendly as hell, though. Me and Tavbro used to go and collect them. He..." A shadow falls over his face, "Oh...FUCK. Oh Fuck. Fucking Tavbro. Fuck! Motherfuckers up and killed him! FUCK!" His mood speeds hastily into a tailspin with a litany of fucks and rocking. "Never got to tell a motherfucker how I...motherFUCKING felt. That fucking BITCH!" Gogdamnit. I quickly grab Gamzee's hands with mine. "The dead are all around us, Gamz. You've seen it in the dream bubbles. They can hear you. If he was here now, what would you say?" He sniffles, staring down at his hands. "I guess I'd tell a brother, that...I FUCKING LIKED HIM. I mean...I up and invited a bro over for makeouts, but he never got back to me on that business. Damn quadrants. So fucking confusing. Like it was done on purpose or some shit." I am so not confirming that right now. I walk around the table to rest my hands on his shoulders in reassurance. "Good, Gamz, keep going. What else?"

He sits quietly for a minute, "Guessin' there ain't much else to tell. He was a good motherfucker, always listenin and talking all excited and shit. Never understood the fairies thing, but he was all up and excited about Life, man. Life and it's mother-fucking miracles. Bro was always so upbeat it broke my fucking heart. Thought if I got to be friend like or matespirits or some shit, might save him from the fucking culling forks. Fucking drones all up and scaring a little brother with those pointy sticks what ain't got no right to. Brother wasn't worse or better than any of us." I nod, even though I don't get quite everything he's saying. Doesn't matter, had therapy.

I ask my next question cautiously, remembering my earlier conversations with Karkat on the subject, "So you wanted to save him, even though he was lower than you on the spectrum?" He snorts a derisive laugh. "That's all hoofbeastshit. Ain't no motherfucker I ever met better or worse on account of their blood. Just different colors, beautiful little miracles, is all. Fuck, half the time motherfuckers with high-ass blood were the worst trolls you ever met. I fucking hated them, so damn rude and shit to motherfuckers what gots less then them. Made me so mad, sometimes, just to talk to them. Guess that's why I didn't have too many highblood friends growing up." He laughs nervously as I pat him on the back. "That's good, Gamz. See, this is what therapy is all about. Talking and getting to know yourself better. This is positive." His hand settles over the one I have on his shoulder and heaves a sigh, "Yeah. Guess so. Ain't so bad. Least I'm talking to you." A snicker emanates from the doorway. "Yeah, true love in here. Real Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Fucking idiots."

I groan loudly and pull away, turning to face my accuser. "Good morning Karkles. What cheer have you to bring me this fine morning?" His long night of stewing angrily in his room shows, "Fuck you. That's what. I need my moirail, if you're done mooning over him like an insecure jackass." Wow. Rude. "I suppose you do. Gamzee, would you be a darling and clean up while I bend Karkat's ear?" He nods eagerly. "Karkat, a word, in private, if I may?" We head to the corridor before he speaks. "What the fuck LaLonde. I thought we had a fucking understanding." I roll my eyes, "I know that we do. I recall you said you wouldn't freak out every time I touch his shoulders." His angry face hovers closer to mine, "No, you pestilent gas-bag! I would agree to this therapy bullshit if you got your fucking quadrants in a row! That pitiful asshole needs a matespirit like the Empress' fucking destroyer needs a tortured troll as a helmsman."

I make a face of incomprehension as he slows his speech, "HE...NEEDS...YOU...YOU...FUCKING...JACKASS. I don't want to hear any of that stupid human 'Oh but it's so wrong' bluh bluh bluh. I don't care. If it will stop him from imploding every time he remembers what he did, it will be fucking manna from the dead troll Jegus. Gog! Is it so hard to grasp? Am I talking to the pink monkey equivalent of a wriggler? This isn't troll rocket science." His gesticulations become more virulent as time passes, "To better balance out his equilibrium, he needs someone who is a positive force. You are ^literally^ the only person on this ship suited to the job. Do I need to draw a fucking map with pictures?"

Rubbing my face to stop from screaming I rebut his rudeness, "Karkat. I have agreed to this for both your and my own reasons. Nothing will happen overnight. Nor should it. Do me a favor and don't kick Gamzee out of your room. If you pester me about this again, I will etch the word Fuckass on your forehead for all eternity. Your remains will be displayed in a museum, where still the word will be visible. You will be fuckass sapiens. With nubby horns." His face pales, and he stammers, "Yeah, sure." Leaning into the room, he calls his moirail. "I'll see the both of you tomorrow afternoon. Kar, please drop off the journals sometime tomorrow morning. Pester me if you need anything." I still don't know how he got the door open. Miraculous mysteries abound on this meteor.


	27. Chapter 27

I guess Gamzee's idea of cleaning up is neatly piling things. Whatever. I shove the remainders of breakfast into a bag to carry to the airlock. I don't really have an agenda for today. I need to retrieve my computer from the library, and possibly apologize to Kanaya, but other than that, nothing much on the plate. Oh, and cool Dave's shit about space boners. It makes me snigger just to think the word. I ruminate on the events of this morning and the night previous. I'm pretty sure that Gamzee did not get the 'I'm not going to date you yet' memo from our conversation. I'll try again tomorrow. It's clear he needs medication to help even out his moods, he's more or less a live wire being dipped in water. Nothing good can come of it.

I roll and crack my neck, trying to ease the tension in my shoulders as I reach the library. Kanaya is there, as always, with tea, bless her black reverse vampire heart. "Another exciting day in the life of the Seer?" she hands me a saucer with a lemon cake square. "You have no idea, my friend. I assume you heard the ruckus from last night?" A downward tic of her lip tells me all I need to know, "Yes. I was not pleased, but I understand your reticence in bringing me so close to a delicate matter. I believe I would have been more successful at ending the conflict, however." She always makes me smile, "I'm sure you would have. A neat trick, your chainsaw is. I appreciate your concern, as always. I actually came to discuss a dream I had last night. About Aradia."

Her eyes widen in shock, "I had thought the dream bubbles were no more?" I shrug. "I don't know if it was a dream bubble or a vision. I saw Aradia, who was calling for us, but I could not reach her for consul because of the break in paradox space. She was trapped behind it. Any opinions?" She taps a pen on the top of the notebook on her lap. "If I were to make an assumption, it could only mean that her powers as Time Maiden may be limited by the new parameters of paradox space. You should look to your brother to see if his powers are affected as well." I hmm, "That's actually not a bad idea. Though I'm not really all that partial to can town." She titters in response. I love to hear her laugh. Talking to her is so uncomplicated.

She sips her tea in contemplation, furrowing her brows in a way that can only mean trouble. What did I say about not complicated?"I was wondering, Rose, since you were considering filling a quadrant with Gamzee..." Oh gog, what is this fresh hell. "If you would be willing to be moirails with me." I blink, surprised. I don't think our relationship would be much different than it is now, except with a little more touchy-feelyness. Which trolls seem to be starved for. I really think it's endemic of the entire population, another plot of L.E. to destabilize troll society. But if it makes her happy..."Uh, sure? What does that entail, again?" She launches into a windblown explanation that literally sounds like Karkat talking without the shouting. I let the information seep in. Essentially, I hold her back from murderous impulses as well as being her bffsy with cuddle privileges. Not bad. "It sounds like a fine idea, then. Have you any murderous impulses that you need to be papped out of at this particular moment?"

Her laugh is clatter of wind chimes as she comes to the couch to join me. "No, not today. I must admit I am not particularly thrilled about your pairing with the clown, but I grasp the importance of it's nature." She stretches out languidly, putting her head on my lap. Why the hell not, I reach down, petting her soft hair. She closes her eyes and purrs like a kitten. Neat. " I am surprised that you've acquiesced to the shouty asshole's demands, though." I laugh at her coarse language, "I haven't given in to anyone. Regardless of what Terezi saw in her vision, there has been no torrid romance. I think it is more important to stabilize Gamzee before any other action is taken. Don't get me wrong, he's handsome, but his moods are too volatile to be considered safe at this moment." She nods, humming absently as she fiddles with my left hand. " I have to ask, Kan, do trolls get hugged a lot when they are young? Or have any physical contact with others, really?" A small frown tips her visage, "No, it would be considered inappropriate. Our lusii may hug us, but it is only if they have the inclination to do so. Many of us grow up without the knowledge of physical companionship until we are old enough to fill quadrants."

Gog almighty. No wonder they are all so fucked up. "I think that's the saddest thing you've ever said, Kan." Her eyebrows quirk up, "Why?" I pull gently at one of her horns. Hmm, she really likes that. Neat. Again. "According to human psychology, a being cannot grow up normally if they are deprived of loving physical contact. I'm not talking sexual contact, either. I just mean hugs and kisses from family and friends in a platonic manner. It cements relationships and provides comfort. It's the foundation of a healthy psyche. Lord English really did a number on your civilization, and it's the saddest damn thing I've ever heard."

Her frown turns into a disappointed pout, "Are you saying that all trolls are beyond repair? I would dare say that I and many others have fared rather well over the last few millennia." I smooth out her frown with a pap. Ohh the power of a pap! "No, I am not saying that. I am theorizing that as a device for control over Alternia's people, the quadrant system and removal of adult trolls from society was deviously successful. It turned a society of peaceful people into a teaming mass of violent skullduggery. It makes me more determined to overcome our future trials, if anything." She seems satisfied with the answer, exploring my other hand. "I suppose. But I am not convinced all things in troll society are bad." Awe. "I wouldn't expect you to. It would be most foolish. And there are some genuinely redeeming qualities that cannot be quashed no matter how much meddling is involved. It is what makes you lot do damn lovable." She smiles softly, a light blush covering her cheeks. "Thank you, Rose. That is a most lovely thing for you to say."

After an hour of noodling around and talking about more or less nothing, I begin to feel restless. Something is amiss. It better not have anything to do with space boners, or gog help me I will be a furious wizard. I check my husktop, only one angry message from Dave about unspeakable fluids. I push into the ether, searching for the source of my discomfit. Nothing. Nothing from Terezi, Karkat, or Gamzee. Like there is a blank. I shift under Kanaya, "Pardon, but I need to go check on my patient. Something seems off." Her eyelids drift sleepily open as she nods. "Do you require my assistance?" She looks hopeful. "No, sorry dear. I don't want to make waves." She hmms happily as I walk out of the room. Trolls are so weird. Still.


	28. Chapter 28

I push again, and am greeted with the same emptiness. I hurry to Karkat's room, praying they will be there. Nothing. Fuck. Computer room, kitchen, Can-Town, bowels of the fucking basement. Nothing. Even my bedroom stands empty. The overwhelming feeling of wrong permeates me with an oily discomfort. Where is everyone? I'm fairly certain this isn't a dream-bubble, but the lack of personnel on this ship is disturbing at best. Climbing out of the air-lock, I feel a small blip on the furthest edge of my Sight, a good mile away from where I stand. I still can't tell who it is. Seeing no other option, I blast my way over.

To see the strangest caravan I've ever had the opportunity to lay eyes on. Gamzee is at the head, walking forward with a steady, assured pace. Karkat is screaming his head off about "bullshit clowns" being "fucking stubborn", pulling his arm and failing spectacularly to guide him back to the airlock. In fact, his dug-in feet trace twin troughs through the pale gray dust that is the meteor's surface. Dave and Terezi follow closely behind, but not close enough to be within Gamzee's reach, whispering conspiratorially to one another and laughing. Honestly, they look more there to have fun at someone else's expense.

I rub my palm over my brows before landing beside my brother. "Dave, please tell me you didn't set him off again." He gives me his best unsettling stare, "I didn't do a damn thing to your precious clown. I heard Karkat screaming his head off in the hallway at Gamz, so I figured I'd just follow along to make sure he isn't going to kill Kar in a crater somewhere and do something weird with the body. That not-mime is a one man dead body molestation machine. Like he's a dead body's creepy uncle that always invites em' over to his touchy feely puzzle basement. Uncle Molesty. And you are going to date him, fucking weirdo." I simultaneously suppress the urge to smack him and chuckle at the same time. Gog he can be annoying. "I'm glad that you have braved your fears of Uncle Touchy to make certain Karkat would go unharmed. This psychologic feat will surely go down in the annals of history." I feel like I'm talking to my mother.

"I assume nothing of note has happened, then?" He shakes his head, "Nope, just a clown marching into the dark muttering about miraculous messiahs. Always a good sign." I turn my attentions to Terezi, "Any visions on the subject?" She emits her famous cackle from her position at his elbow, showing all of her pointy shark teeth, "Nah, just keeping my pale friend in check. He gets all grumpy around that shambling freak. Can't say I blame him, but you're the Seer that says he's important." Pale brother, huh. That's news. Not surprising, I suppose, but still news. "Actually, there's been some gains on that theory. I'll tell you later." I know she wants more answers, but I turn away to float over to the caravan leader.

As I circle around, I see his face has a glazed over look. He's looking forward, but not actually seeing anything. It amazes me he hasn't fallen in a crater. There is nothing threatening in his face, just a pleasant smile. "Gamzee...may I inquire what it is you're doing? You're leading a bit of a parade here." Karkat cuts in acidly, "YEAH. REAL FUCKFACE ASSHOLE RUMPUS PARADE. THIS FUCKING CLOWN WON'T STOP NO MATTER HOW MUCH I FUCKING YELL, IT'S LIKE HE'S ON A MISSION FROM HIS BULLSHIT MESSIAHS TO GIVE ME A GOGDAMN PANIC COMPLEX." Gamzee gently paps Karkat between the horns, "No worries, brother. Ain't no messiahs talking up in my pan. Just motherfucking miracles. 'Radia came to me wearin a green dress, telling me she needed a brother what gots the chucklevoodoos to help her. She told me to come out here and wait. I was supposed to be alone, but, Karkat never lets me go nowhere alone." Oh what the hell. He finally stops, standing in the middle of four posts, looking placidly to the sky. I'd never noticed them until now, and something about them is familiar.

Unease sets in my bones, "What did she tell you to do with the chucklevoodoo, exactly?" Looking as calm as a summer breeze, "Focus it on the break in paradox space when it gets bendy. Then wait right here for whatever it is to get here. No moving." Karkat stops his efforts to budge his friend, who is stock still and immovable as a wall. "YOU COULD HAVE FUCKING SAID SOMETHING YOU MOTHERFUCKING SHIT-STAINED HOOFBEAST FUCK MOUNTAIN! I'VE FUCKING YELLED MYSELF HOARSE AT YOU! MY DELICATE VOCAL CHORDS CHAFE WITH GOGDAMN STRAIN FROM YELLING AT YOUR NARROW CLOWN ASS! WHAT THE HELL?!" Gamzee smiles widely, "'Radia told me not to say anything till I got here." We both facepalm. I toe the dust, discovering a battered purple under it. "Is there anything else she said?" I point out the color to Karkat and we both work to move the dust away when Gamz answers, "Yeah. She told me to get everyone else out of the way. Hey, Dave, Terecita! Catch!"

An ear-splitting explosion sounds behind me as Gamzee hefts both myself and Karkat easily, tossing us to our waiting friends. Dave catches me mid-air. Karkat lands in a pile at Terezi's feet. I finally realize what Gamzee is standing on. A quest bed. I turn back to him with panic, "No! The game's over! The parameters don't apply anymore!" I try to scrabble forward, but Dave drags me further and further away. That idiot will get himself killed! A crippling wave of voodoos pass over us, making me sweat and shake. I turn my head to the break in time to see a Skaia meteor portal closing over it. The meteor is huge, roaring down over our heads. He makes no attempt to escape, instead opening his arms towards the Void, pushing even harder with the voodoo. I scream his name as Dave drags me. Everything goes white.


	29. Chapter 29

The explosion throws us all to the ground, covering us with a fine layer of dust. Dazed, I look around me. I can't hear any sound. Dave looks uncharacteristically unsettled. Karkat is sobbing into Terezi's arms. I shake my head, and echoes begin to filter in. "THAT FUCKING... IDIOT! Did he...just...hug...meteor? OH MY...GOG...ALL...FAULT!" I close my eyes and rub them, hoping what I just saw hadn't happened. Of course not. I feel something hot and wet on the side of my head, dripping onto my sweater. I swipe at the offending fluid, discovering it is blood. Lovely. Dave squats next to me, "...the Fuck...?" I shrug, mostly because I didn't hear much of what he said. He tears the bottom hem of his shirt off, wiping the blood from my bleeding ear. "Asshole...hugged...meteor" He bandages my head as best he can, but I'm not much help. Sure, I've got a poker face to beat the devil, but I'm a roiling mess inside. The hole where the bed used to be is the only thing I can see.

I stagger and jerk to my feet, tripping over myself in my hurry to see what is at the bottom of the crater. This can't be happening. I won't let it happen. Not again. NOT FUCKING AGAIN. No-one else is dying because of my carelessness. Why didn't I see this coming? I fall to my knees at the edge before Dave can haul me back. Dust clouds suffused with light hover at the bottom, slowly dimming into nothingness. We give each other a sidelong glance before drifting down. The dust clogs my nose and makes me cough. It's so thick, all we can see are shifting, shapeless shadows. Suddenly the world has sound again, Karkat's wails of pain and sorrow echo around the crater. The clouds won't settle just yet, but I see no evidence of the meteor itself. It's reminiscent of when we had entered the Medium at the very beginning of the game, which is eerie. We feel our way towards the center, cautiously shuffling our feet forward. My foot hits something solid, and as I step over it it coughs. "Mother-Fuck! She didn't say nothing about that shit hurting. Gog Damn!"

The creaky voice splutters into a fit of coughs as I slam myself to my knees over the prostrate figure. He's there, solid, whole, and breathing. I thought...Jegus...is this even real? I choke out a sob and pull him up into a hug, "You...you fucking asshole." I bury myself into his shoulder as he snorts and strokes my hair, husking into my ear, "Damn baby girl, if I'da known dyin's the way to get a real motherfucking hug from ya, woulda done it sweeps ago." He starts to speak again but I don't want to hear his words. My lips press his urgently, seeking reassurance that he is, in fact, there. He returns the kiss with a pleased sigh that tickles my saliva-wet lips. I kiss him hard enough to bruise. I don't care. I want it to. I want this burned into my memory forever. I didn't fuck up, I didn't lose someone...I...ah. Care for? Fuck you, brain. Shut. Up. Thankfully, it does, and I lose myself in the moment. This isn't a soft, sweet kiss. It's clacking teeth, thrashing tongues, a battle to say things that can't be said yet. It's a bittersweet promise. An, 'Oh my gog I can't believe you're alive.' An affirmation of life. There can't be space between us, I won't let there be. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me closer, his familiar growl/purr rumbling busily away deep in his chest. An indiscreet cough brings me back to my senses. Oh Jegus help my hormones.

"So. That happened. What the fuck, clown? Where's, like, everything?" I hop to my feet awkwardly, letting Gamzee stand while I furiously rub away the evidence of our kiss on the inside of my shirt. A hand snakes around my waist and holds me close as he responds, "Had to send it away-like. Aradia's ancestor told me I had to blow up Jade's tower. Was the only way she'd join the game." I frown, turning in his grip to face him, "How exactly did this come about?" Another wail from the top of the crater distracts him from answering, "Oh, shit! Karbro!" Tightening his grip on me, Gamzee flies out of the abyss. Wait, flies? What the fuck. I can only see behind him, but what I see is short of amazing. Wings, adorned with his characteristic smiley face =0) flap wildly as we land. The guy I just kissed has wings. He is a fairy. Fuck My Fairy Kissing Life.

"Karbro! Cool your rumble spheres, best friend. I didn't go nowhere. Just had ta do a favor for 'Radia, cuz I promised I would. You right?" I wisely step out of the way, figuring this moment is either going to be Gamzee's true death, or moirail make out central. Karkat releases his grip on Terezi's shirt, looking up in disbelief. His face does a tarantella, torn between rage and relief. "YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!" Huh. It's like we read each others' minds. "I...YOU... MOTHER FUCKER I NEVER THOUGHT I'D SEE YOUR STUPID BULLSHIT CLOWN FUCKING FACE AGAIN AND I THOUGHT I WAS JUST GONNA DIE RIGHT HERE ON THIS FUCKING VORTEX OF HELL METEOR I SWEAR TO GOG IF YOU DO THIS TO ME AGAIN I'LL CULL YOU MYSELF!"

I'm amazed at the fact Karkat didn't take a single breath during that entire sentence. He hurls himself at Gamzee in an embarrassing display of emotion. That I am also guilty of. "YOU CRAZY BASTARD! ONLY YOU WOULD FALL ASS BACKWARDS INTO BEING A GOD TIER! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WEARING, ANYWAY? WHAT THE FUCK, GAMZEE, WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS THING?! WHY IS YOUR SUIT POKING...ME. OMYGOG!WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT MONSTROSITY?" He hastily releases his friend, surveying his God tier outfit. Gamzee laughs heartily, "Brother's gotta have room, Karbro. I like it." I finally get a good gander myself. It's in his favorite color, at least. It looks a bit like a jester's outfit, with a pointy hat and shoes. The hat has little purple puffballs, with buttons to close the gaps around his horns. His cape is settled snugly over his wings, momentarily obscuring them. His pants...oh gogs of the underworld. He has a cod-piece. I kissed a guy with a cod-piece. He isn't just a God tier. He's a Cod tier. I join his loud laughter until I'm coughing and wheezing. He pats me on the back with the hand that isn't shooshing Karkat, "It's good to hear you laugh like that, mama. Ain't but heard it once." His lazy grin is infectious, and I return it like an idiot.

For the second time in a night, Dave serves as the voice of reason. "So, oh high and mighty Cod Tier, would you like to explain what the fuck all just went down?" Gamzee looks up innocently from his cuddle fest with Karkat, patting him a final time on the head. "Sure, bro. No problem. Was up and dreamin this afternoon when Aradia's ancestor came and talked to a brother." Dave nods, prompting,"The time chick?" Gamzee nods eagerly, "Yeah, her. So, she told me she needed my help getting her powers into this session, cuz Rosesis couldn't talk to her. What with the paradox space shit being broken. Said if I used the voodoos to direct a portal from their session to right where I was standing, I'd hit Cod tier and save the motherfucking day with her musical ass time boxes."

I sneak in a quick comment before Karkat goes ballistic, his cheeks already puffing in preparation for a verbal assault, "And if you hadn't used the voodoo?" He kicks the dirt near his feet, "Meteor would have destroyed us. Just wanted to make sure everyone would be okay." He frowns momentarily, "She didn't say it was gonna hurt like motherfuck though." Karkat looks about to tear his hair from it's very roots. "YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT AN ANCESTOR. CONTACTED YOU, THE CRAZY FUCKING CLOWN ON THIS MAGICAL FUCKING MYSTERY TOUR OF GRABASSERY, TO GIVE US MUSIC BOXES? ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? HE'S SERIOUS. OH MY GOG. LALONDE, WHAT THE FUCK. YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO FIELD THIS SHIT. SO I DON'T HAVE TO WATCH MY FRIEND FUCKING HUG A METEOR AND DIE."

Dave interjects at this point, "You hugged it out with a giant ass meteor and won. You all got your lovin on that big rock like you were trying to get it back after a breakup and shit. Holding up your imaginary boom-box to show how much you loved it. Impressive." He breaks off his thought to push at Terezi's shoulder, "Come on,'Rezi, I don't need to see the reunion scene of Con Air in person right now. You good?" She sniffs the air experimentally, "Yeah. Gamzee, please don't wear that suit ever again. It's so loud! I can only smell grape Faygo!" He giggles with glee as she continues, " See you back in the mystery tour, Karkles!" With a "hup!" Dave sweeps Terezi off her feet and takes off. Her fading voice calls out in mock jubilation, "Oooh Mr. Strider!" Karkat squeeks out a GUK! as he watches them fly off. I should tell him they're just moirails, but it's too fun to watch his anger contort his face.

Which leaves the three of us. Karkat and I stand awkwardly on either side of a serene Gamzee. What the hell did I just do. I kissed a guy who has a permanent boner sewed to his pants. Didn't I just get done saying I wasn't going to date him? ARG! The silence drags out uncomfortably until I can't take it anymore, "What is the purpose of the music boxes, exactly?" Gamzee starts walking back towards the airlock, and we follow like mismatched ducklings. He looks at us over his shoulder. "Dunno yet. She just told me to hold on to 'em...along with a couple other things." Karkat and I frown at each other. Karkat pushes the issue, "Other things?" He nods, "Yeah...um..." he scans around anxiously, "the bodies. From before. Gonna have to use them later. She didn't say what all for." Oh. Ew. Uncle Touchy's puzzle basement it is, then.

"She just said to keep them safe until I need them." He stops in his tracks, looking at us with worried eyes, "I ain't gonna mess with em none. That shit's weird." He keeps walking and we both sigh out a breath of almost-relief. I can't stand being in my own head right now. Distraction time! I float up off of my feet, pushing forward until I'm in front of Gamzee. "This walk is going to take forever. You realize you have wings?" He smiles up at my hovering form, as if I had just mentioned a wonderful sunset was taking place nearby. "Yeah, motherfucker, wanna race? Ten boonbucks says I get back to the lock first!" Without even giving me a count, he grabs Karkat and races off. Cheeky Monkey!


	30. Chapter 30

With a few false starts and crashes, I finally manage to guide Gamzee into the use of his wings and bring him, and a very angry Karkat, back to the base. "Jegus Crust, Gamz! I'm a fucking mess here! Get your purple bonebulge monstrosity away from me! Fuck! Come on, I'm getting you changed and then we are taking fucking showers." He glaces over at my sly grin, "Alone. We are showering alone. Get your thinkpan out of the water drainage system, LaLonde. Augh. Just. EAUGH!" He stomps off down the hallway. It's adorable how much a drama queen he is. I don't even know what to say, I'm a twitching mass of contradiction. I am riding the shittiest roller-coaster ever. The emo-coaster. It makes my stomach twist with each new turn and loop-de loop. I want to kiss him again. I want to bury myself under a rock in the Void. Gog, I am a flighty broad.

I'm so immersed in my thoughts I don't even sense him until his ^ahem^ piece bumps me. He looks down with a grin, "Sorry." Not giving me the time to count the knots in my knickers, he tilts my head back to give me a meteor-shattering kiss. A real, honest to gog, honey sweet melt-in-your-own-skin kiss, brushing, nibbling, teasing, tasting every inch of my mouth. My brain has left the building. Animal instinct takes over. I return the kiss with fervor, his answering whimper making my skin tingle. My hands find their way to his hips, giving me leverage to push up closer to his face. His trail a lazy path down my back, circling and massaging my tense muscles. Their journey ends abruptly at my hips, wrapping themselves around with a scintillating pressure. Nails wiggle their way under my shirt, lightly tracing the top of my pants, making me start and shiver. I bite his lip by accident. The answering yowl under his breath makes me do it again, alternating between worrying his lip with steady pressure, and soothing it with my tongue. With a lusty, helpless moan, he pushes me back against the wall, starting the assault on my lips anew.

He leaves me breathless and boneless, honking my nose. "Now that's worth hugging a motherfucking meteor for. See you later?" His thumb rubs against my sensitive lower lip and I nod mutely. "Kay. Catch up with you later, baby girl. Gotta go calm down my palebro." He struts off like he's the new king of the Land of Sex on Legs and Gogdamn. Once he rounds the corner, my brain stutters back to life like a poorly primed generator. I'm insane. Completely insane. And I keep making out with a guy in a codpiece. My arms are covered in goosebumps, lips still taut, sensitive from their through kissing. I'm a mess, and I have no idea what to do with myself. I really need to inspect the chaos of my life.

I decide that after a through scrubbing, I will track down my brother and discuss his issues with space-boners. Not because I want to, but because it is an inevitability, and he might as well not kick a fuss up over it. Jumping Jegus Crust on a Cracker with Cheese! When did I become a fatalist? I tie my hair back, I just don't feel like dealing with it. It has really started to grow out more than I'd like. I'll have to ask Kan to cut it for me. Somehow I think she may be quite good at it. My sweater is a dusty, bloody mess, so I just throw it out. No sense in scrubbing something that won't be saved. I alchemize another set of my 'cool glasses', this time in robin's egg blue. Addiction is a powerful thing. What should one wear to speak with their brother about boners? Sexy is right out. I won't be bringing it back anytime soon. Howww abouuut...Meowcat tshirt? Haven't worn it in ages. Flowy skirt? Check and double check. Striped socks? Check. on. Lock. Comfy sneakers? Hell. Yes.

I float towards the general location of my brother's, vibe? I guess you'd call it? It's just like a homing device or something. It must be a new ability from the 'meteor hugging' episode. The more practice I get with my Seer powers, the more neat shit I discover. Finally something useful. He's not in the computer room, nor is he in Can Town. I'm pulled inexorably towards his bedroom. Terezi is there as well. This better not be awkward. I've been showered in record amounts of awkward today. Another inch and I may implode like a white quasar into a black hole. I think better of just walking in, knocking loudly. I hear hurried rustling and an "oh shit!" behind the door before it opens.

He opens it a crack, "Yeah? What's up, Rose?" Do I really want to know what's going on behind him? "I come offering an olive branch, my brother. Gamzee's recovery depends on your not being a douche bag around him." He looks me over idly, the room behind him making various shuffling and clicking noises. "That ain't much of a branch, sister. Sounds more like an ugly stick dressed up like a branch. I'm not about to be hit by no ugly stick. I am not a cleanser of vagina. I destroy them, with my amazing prowess. In bed. I'm like a star football starting pitcher." I roll my eyes. "Look, if you can't control your smart-ass mouth until he gets a handle on himself, can you at least stay away? I have no idea where our relationship is going, or if any space cock will be involved. To be honest, you sound more interested in the concept than I do. Your Freudian craving for cock knows no boundaries. What ever is that ruckus in your room?"

He casually glances over his shoulder, grateful for the dodge, "I didn't hear a ruckus. Terezi, you hear a ruckus?" She cackles in response, "Nope! No ruckus, coolkid!" He gives me a look of 'See!' Whatever. Fine. Be weird and mysterious. "So is there going to be a problem, or not? I would like confirmation either way. I also count baiting and pestering him underneath the title of "problem," by the by." He juts his lip defiantly, mulling it over. "Nah, I don't see us being locked in any fray in the near future. Kid hugged a meteor today to save our asses. He might just be the shyest juggalo ever, but he stepped up. I choose to respect that ironically." Terezi finally joins him at the door, her shirt on backwards. Interesting moirailship there. I give Dave a Look, but he just shrugs, "Science. It's cool shit. We done here? I'm not in the mood to discuss boners, of any kind." Terezi smiles like a shark behind him, the light bouncing off her glasses giving her a look of an anime villain. "You suure about that Dave? I smell cotton candy deceit!" Her tongue tests the air, confirming her anime status forever in my mind. He rolls his neck dramatically, "Woman, get back in my room. Later, Rose." He unceremoniously shuts the door in my face. Rude.

I float, lonely as a cloud, through the rest of the meteor, searching for something to do. Kanaya's not in the library. I could message her, but for all I know she could have been in the room with Dave. I check, just in case. Nope. Just in her room. I don't want to bother her if she wants to be alone. I end up in the kitchen, parking myself on the island. I don't really want anything, and I don't want to cook. Not alone, anyway. I've always found it more fun as a cooperative exercise. My mind keeps going around the two very different kisses I had today. They were...kinda awesome? Jegus Chistmas! No! He's sick, and that's fucking taking advantage of him. Gog I hate myself. Self-loathing threatens to overtake my mind. Distraction! Yes, please!

Maybe I'll knit, I haven't in a while. I move over to the table to have room to spread everything out. What color...hmm. Yellow. I like yellow. Yellow is happy. I need happy. I'm halfway through a candle-flame cowl when I hear voices down the hallway. Not knowing why, I decide I really don't want to be spoken to. Searching desperately for somewhere to hide, I spy the disused pantry and streak over to it, shutting the door securely behind me. To my surprise, there is a comfy chair and some snacks next to it. Faygo. Apparently someone else likes using this vantage point as well. Interesting. Very Interesting.


	31. Chapter 31

The voices come closer, entering the kitchen with noisy disregard for their surroundings. It's not like there's a freak in the closet or anything. Not at all. "I'm just saying, man, you really shouldn't rush shit. You're still sick, and she's...um. Her." Great. Karkat Vantas is letting it all out about me. Awesome conversation to hear. "Don't get it twisted, Karbro. It's just feeling all motherfucking right up in here. Girl's a box of miracles for a motherfucker." I sense Karkat's shrug. "Really? All motherfucking right. Yes. Because a dalliance with an alien is a viable genetic option for our species. Even though I don't know what we'll do without the matriorb, it's something to keep in mind."

I don't dare peek out of the slats in the door, because I really don't want to give my position away. Gamzee growls softly, "Ain't about no science, brother. Just about what's right." He leans against the pantry door. That bastard has to know I'm here. Sonofabitch. AND NO SHIRT! His wings are neat, though. "Anyways, don't much care what anyone else says on the matter. You was all black-crush on that John kid, weren't you?" Karkat hisses a put-upon sigh as he grabs something from the refrigerator. "Yeah. I guess. I just worry, that's all. Big fucking ball of worry. Like it's my damn job." The grin Gamzee gives his palebro warms his words, "Is your fucking job, my palebro. Just like it's mine to worry about you, motherfucker. We'll work the matriorb shit out eventually. We're all kindsa falling ass backwards into solutions for our troubles, best friend." Karkat laughs, a light sound like sand falling in an hourglass.

"Fucking right about that, asshead. Christ, what were you thinking? How do you even know that shit wasn't playing right into that green asshole's grubby hands?" Gamzee thinks for a minute. "Guessing I don't, bro. But I wasn't about to all up and let that shit take down all my friends on account of being scared." Karkat puts down whatever he's making on the counter with a clink and walks over to the door to pat his shoulder. "Were you scared?" Gamzee straightens, stretching and glancing behind him to give me a sneaky smile. Gogdamnit. I never get away with anything. Ever. "Yeah. A little. Like I said though, I wanted to make sure everyone was okay. Can't be losing my palebro and my mate in one sweep." Well, fuck. Karkat snorts, "Good luck making that official. LaLonde is one flighty broad. Took Kan a sweep to get her to agree to being a moirail. Girl's clueless about troll advances. Don't growl at me, asshole. I'm allowed to have an opinion. I'm no well-trained barkbeast. Fuck, consider me a feral rabid barkbeast, attempting to gnaw some sense into your shins."

Gamzee looks down, shrugging. "I get it, bro. She's got her own thoughts to up and make." Damn right! He steals another glance behind him, "But I think it'll work out. I still believe in motherfucking miracles." Karkat sighs in defeat, "Yeah, yeah. Cover all our problems in your indestructible optimism. I want to live in your world, Gamz. Can you make a passport system or something?" He laughs and grabs him into a bear hug. "Wish that I could brother, I'd take you there every motherfucking day. We'd get our hella chill on there kicking down wicked elixirs. Fuck, reminds me of my planet back in Skaia. Those little monster dudes where fucking cool as shit once you gave them a little pie."

Karkat snarls, struggling out of his friend's grip, "I am not drinking that shitty soda. I don't care if it's the last thing on this gogdamn meteor to drink. I'd rather die of dehydration." He snatches whatever he made off the counter and walks out the door. Gamzee pouts, "Awe, why you gotta be like that, bro?", trailing off after him. I feel like a total voyeur, but I stay put until their voices have faded completely. I cautiously examine the room through the slats in the door. No-one. I open the door quietly, slide out soundlessly. I toss my half-finished cowl on the table as I go by, I need a drink. Apple juice will have to do. Fuck fuck fuck. He wants so much more than I'm willing to give.

I jam on my mp3 player's earbuds and pour my juice at the center island. The Groove Armada pounds my ears as I sullenly swish the contents of my glass. I didn't realize Karkat had been so reticent on the topic. Hell. I'm reticent. Very reticent. Like get me off this meteor now reticent. Kar's been pushing this like a poorly trained pimp with a new ho. I suppose it makes sense, a good moirail will question the decisions of their friend to make certain they are making the best choices. Huh. Indestructible optimism is definitely a characteristic of Gamz, when he's not losing his mind. I put the juice down when I sense Gamzee's blip behind me. Gray arms place themselves on each side of me on the island. I freeze. I want to run. I want to turn around and kiss him for all I'm worth. What. The. Fresh. Fuck. Is wrong with me? Keep cool. I turn to face him, "How are you feeling Gamzee? Has the God tier transformation had any effect on you?" Great. Yes. Best way to greet the guy you were practically slobbering all over a few hours ago.

My awkward greeting is said to his bare chest. He has no nipples. Weird. I tilt my head back so I can actually see his face. His laconic grin is securely in place, "You mean if it's up and messed with my thinkpan? Don't feel much different." His face bunches together, analyzing himself, "Maybe the messiahs are a little quieter? Don't hear no yelling, anyhow. More like a teeny-tiny whisper. Hell of a lot easier to ignore." His arms haven't moved. I feel a little trapped, so I scoot back until I'm touching the counter with my backside.

I look back up, a wicked grin beams down at me. "So a little featherbeast tells me you was hiding in the food storage when me an Karkat was talking in here." Damnit. "Clearly that bird has poor vision. I am no voyeur, Mr. Makara. In fact, I just got in here." His eyebrow quirks up, smirking. "So I didn't smell you in there?" I play along, "No, obviously not. Perhaps you're using some of my soap and smelled yourself? I had noticed a significant depletion in my stores." He quickly grabs me and plops me on the counter to make me look at him face to face, his smile turning seductive. "Huh. I didn't see you through the door none? Could have sworn I up and saw something tasty in the food closet." Okay. That makes me blush. His face keeps hovering closer, and even though everything in me is screaming at me to kiss him, I put a finger to his lips. His advance stops, lips pursing around my digit questioningly. I am being seduced by a juggalo clown. What the hell is wrong with me. I'm panicking, confusion, lust, and anxiety licking at my insides like a forest fire. I can't do this. Be ice cold, LaLonde.

"Fine. Maybe I was hiding in the pantry." His face splits into a grin of victory behind my still hovering finger. I've got to get him to back off. "What's this business about me being a 'mate?' I agreed to nothing, and I have heard no formal declarations." He noses my finger upwards, placing a chaste kiss on my palm before his hand captures mine and brings it back to the countertop. He looks me squarely in the eye, a shadow of pain hiding behind his shrinking grin, "Ain't been no declaration cuz you run away like a scalded meowbeast every time things get heavy. Not physical-like, a course, but you shut down those miracles, sister. Get all frozen-water on a brother." Well. I'm feeling like frozen water now, come to think of it.

He moves between my thighs, standing his full height, forcing me to look up at him, "Won't have my mate run off in her think pan every time she gets nervous. Or push me away. That shit wears at a bro. You decide when you want to up and be kissing on me, when you want to be my motherfucking mate right and proper." I'm torn between being shocked at how astute he is, and being vigorously angry at him. No-one should be able to see through me like that. What's a defense mechanism built over years of abuse if it isn't effective?! I can't even speak. His smile turns to an aching sadness, pulling down at the corners. "It's okay, miracle sister." He taps my forehead with a butterfly light finger, "You tell me when you've up and made your mind. See you tomorrow afternoon, my Rosesis." And with that, he's gone.


	32. Chapter 32

A tear makes its way down my face, unbidden. I'm pissed. No-one should be able to see through me like that. Years of emotional abuse from my mother have made my facade a wall of impenetrable ice. That dumb clown fuck walks right through it like he's a freaking ghost. Motherfucker! I gulp my glass of aj down, recaptchalouge my sewing project, and head towards the airlock. Time to blow some shit up. Ain't havin none of this feelings shit right now.

I jam my earbuds in, turning on my GOGDAMNIT mix. Pretty common fare for the average angry teenager, Tool, Rage, Ozzy, Misfits, Metallica, Rise Against, Boy Sets Fire, you get the idea. I reach the top of the lock, rocketing forward. I was unaware I was even moving. Hatred burns and twists inside me, a self-loathing so deep and dark it could crush coal to diamonds. My every molecule vibrates with barely controlled anger. It blurs my vision with tears, makes my hands shake. Who the fuck is he to see all of this shit? I'm a fucking frosty fortress. Aenima cycles on, making me push harder to get to the other side of the meteor. Schism is next, and it always unhinges me a bit. How dare he. Fucking get under MY skin. I am the gogdamn queen of standoffish and snark. That is not a title earned in a la-di-dah lifestyle. It's earned in battle after bitter, sarcastic verbal battle with a horrible fucking shrew of a mother. Whose heart is so cold it makes Antarctica seem like a tropical bleeding paradise. It's built through years of abhoration of the self, spending hours upon hours in analysis of just why I'm such a horrible fucking person. Why everyone hates me. It's carried in the Meh of eyes, the defiance in my shoulders. It's in my fucking DNA. Rage, pure and clear, washes everything away as the fated song screams in my ears.

A few hours later, I return to the base, sweaty, dirty, and damn tired. There's a few more craters on the other side of the meteor. And some rocks re-arranged into rude statuettes. Once I'm at the bottom of the airlock shaft, I see Kanaya leaning against the wall. She's clearly waiting for me. I pretend to not see her, floating over her head. "Oh no you don't, airborne Seer! Come down here this very time paradigm! I have spent most of this lovely day waiting for your royal sullenness to stop destroying the rock on which we live to speak with you!" I huff, squeezing my eyes tight, and land. I don't want her to see my eyes are red from crying as well. She fusses with my face, wiping away the dust. "The last blast hit the meteor so hard it rang through the lab! I thought you were trying to blow us up! What upsets you so?"

If I talk, I'll cry. I just shrug and nod my head, striding away towards my bedroom. She drifts behind, "If you will not speak to me, I shall follow you around all day until you do. I have nothing but time on this rock." I won't. Talk. go. Away. "It is interesting, you know, that you are so keen to help others, and yet will allow none to help you." I spin, unable to control myself from lashing out at her, "Yeah, you and every other troll know so damn much about me. I'm a fucking human encyclopedia. You're so damn desperate for a relationship that doesn't involve dealing with assholes you cling to the one person on this ship with a grain of sanity like a fucking barnacle. Yeah, it's fucking sad you guys never get hugged when you're little. But fucking deal with it and stop taking it out on me. Jegus crust, take your shit and sell it elsewhere."

Her lip wobbles dangerously, but she still draws herself to her full height, walking towards me with dignity. The wind whistles with the speed of her hand, landing a stinging slap on my face. "I will not be spoken to that way. You are upset, and as your moirail, I forgive you." Gog that makes me feel like an asshole mountain. "Take yourself to the ablution chamber this instant. You stink. I will get you tea in the meantime." I move to speak again, gog just leave me alone, but she shooshes me until I move toward my bedroom. Fucking trolls.

I am a ball of tension, and no matter how much hot water courses over my body, I cannot relax. I'm mad at myself, at him, this whole fucking bullshit game. For the first time, I really miss home. I'd much rather be trading barbs with my mother than dealing with this. It's hard. It's hard, and it hurts, and nobody understands. I sigh, reaching for a towel. Fuck. I forgot to bring clothes in with me. Behind me in the mirror, I spy a tastefully composed outfit. Some of my ire melts away. Kanaya really is very thoughtful. I'm an insecure asshat. A note is taped to my underwear, "These Are Really Quite Tasteful, May I Borrow A Pair to Make For Myself?" Weird, but she is a fashionista. All right fine, I replaced all my underwear with my cool glasses. Deal with it. Why, why do people like to send me undiegrams?

I enter my bedroom fully primped and dressed, and Kan looks me over with pride. "You look lovely, Rose." I nod, gratefully taking the tea she hands me. This is stupid. I'm stupid. Even therapists need therapy sometimes. She's made an impromptu table out of a large pillow, situating beanbags around it. The kind gesture melts the rest of my resistance. "I'm sorry, Kan. I'm just frustrated with myself. I did not mean to be so rude." She paps my head playfully, "Worry not, my hornless friend. It is most difficult to sort out one's feelings at times. What is it you are frustrated about, exactly?" I force down my automatic bristle to her question. If this is what a moirail is about, I might as well do it right. "I've spent my entire life building an impenetrable wall of sarcasm and a frosty attitude. I am not demonstrative all that often. I've probably given out more hugs on this meteor than I have in the thirteen years I spent on Earth." She hums soothingly and pulls me to her shoulder, "I've never felt comfortable with the idea of romance, or love, for that matter. It's something perfunctory that exists outside of the realm of reason. I suppose, with the way my mother treated me...I just imagined I had no use for it. I pretended I didn't want it."

Kanaya smooths the frown on my face with a finger, "Was your human lusus not loving? It is difficult to believe." I shift on the beanbag to stop myself from sliding into her lap, "We had a tumultuous relationship. If we were not trading sarcastic comments, then we were refusing to speak to one another. We lived in a self-created hell of one-upmanship. I'm fairly certain if I had never entered the game I would have been a drunk like her. I never even got a chance to tell her I loved her before she died." My voice wobbled a bit as I said that last phrase, and I stop, willing the tears away. She leans over to fill my cup again. The tea is honey-sweet with a citrus tang. Very soothing. I relax, feeling lucky I have accepted the idea of moirailship. Her hum is light and musical, unlike Gamzee's dark gravelly husk. Dammit stop thinking about that. For one second. Gog. She doesn't speak, waiting patiently. "I...huh. I'm just not used to the idea of being loved, I suppose. Not to mention that annoying clown slipped right past my defenses into my ^feels^ without even trying. What's the point of a facade if it doesn't keep anyone out?!" She laughs her wind chime laugh, "Even on Alternia he had that habit. In spite of his slime addiction, he was always able to wriggle his way into one's heart. He is the king of deception when it comes to that. He'll play dumb all day long, but when it comes down to it, he probably knows more about us than anyone. Sneaky honking asshole. He won over Karkat, did he not?" That makes me snicker.

"Indeed. I never imagined Karkles for the juggalo type. Was everyone surprised when it happened?" She pets my hair absently, "You have no idea. I thought he was going to kill him that day, but nooo. He shooshes and paps that clown back into oblivion. It was a, I hate to say it, miraculous feat. Though I never thought he'd come back from it entirely. Subjugglators are known for going off the deep end and staying there if they don't have a moirail and matespirit. It was very common on Alternia." Lovely. "I just don't want to screw him up worse. I think that's my main fear." Or get hurt in the process. I don't need to say that. Kan tips her head sideways, bumping me off her shoulder. It makes me look her in the eye. "How could you make him worse? Let's really think about this. In a matter of two weeks, you've convinced him to come out of hiding, speak to his friends again, and defend us from impending doom. Sure, there have been missteps, but such is typical when dealing with these issues, as per our previous discussions. If you are not ready for a matespiritship, wait. He will understand. Forcing yourself to get into something you are not ready for will end poorly for everyone." I squeeze her hand, "Thank you. Perhaps you can help me with something else?" She raises her eyebrows quizzically until I hand her a pair of scissors. "Cut my hair? I trust your styling judgement." The results are fantastic. Short and bouncy pixie!


	33. Chapter 33

It's late when Kan finally leaves, but I feel a great deal reassured. I guess that's what moirails are for. Neat. See? I can be multicultural. I'm just settling in to sleep when my door swooshes open. Gog damnit. At least I'm wearing clothes. "What? Who is it now? What crisis must the Seer attend to?" Karkat's voice sounds hoarse and angry. "Shut up, fuckass. I'm just dropping off the journals like you told me to. The hell did you say to him earlier today? Asshole's been sulking in the interior of the meteor all damn night." I guess I'm not getting a good 'fuck you' and wishes goodnight.

I roll and sit up, patting the end of the bed for Karkat. "I didn't say much, which may be the problem. I am well aware of what he wants, but I need to come to terms with my own issues, and his, prior to any romantic entanglements." He looks dubious, "Have you told him this? Jegus, fucking communication, do you know how to do it? And what issues?" I pull my face. "Ask Kan sometime. I just spent the last few hours jamming it out, as you say. Let's just say I'm not comfortable with the idea of love or being loved. It's foreign to me. Anyway, he pretty much handed down an ultimatum to me, saying ^I^ was the one who had to decide when we move this along further. I feel rather guilty about it."

Looking nonplussed, "So do we have therapy tomorrow? Or am I going to have to deal with angry rage boners on my own?" Really? Does he think me that weak? Bluh! Throwing my hands up in exasperation, "Of course you're having a session tomorrow. I said I wasn't ready to be a matespirit, not that I wouldn't help. There's a big difference and I wish you would see that." He shrugs. "Whatever. Just try to work this shit out before he kills everyone, k? I'm gonna go chase him down in the catacombs." He wearily stands, looking very much the worse for wear. "Thank you for being patient, Karkat." He waves a hand dismissively before he goes out the door.

Well, now I can't sleep. Let's see what capitol-laced ranting Karkat has for me today.

DAY SEVEN OF THE ELPHANTINE SHIT MOUNTAIN JAMBOREE: WE GOT THE OINKBEAST AND PEEPBEAST MEATS AFTER OUR SESSION. HE WAS PRETTY DAMN HAPPY THE REST OF THE DAY. DOODLING PETAL PLANTS AND SHIT. I GOT SICK OF THAT PRETTY QUICKLY AND TOOK HIM TO THE COMPUTER ROOM SO HE COULD MESSAGE YOU. HE FORGOT HIS HUSKTOP SOMEWHERE, I HAVE NO IDEA. THAT FUCKTARD BROTHER OF YOURS DECIDED TO STOMP INTO THE COMPUTER ROOM YELLING ABOUT FUCKING SPACE BONERS AND HOW THEY SHOULD NOT BE IN YOUR PROXIMITY. FUCKER, IF YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT SPACE BONERS, HOW ABOUT YOU AND TEREZI?!" I giggle. "FOR FUCKS' SAKE! GAMZEE ^REALLY^ TRIED TO STAY CALM, BUT YOUR BROTHER JUST WOULDN'T LET THE FUCK UP. I WAS PRETTY PROUD OF HIM UNTIL HE LOST HIS SHIT AND TRIED TO EAT DAVE. YOU KNOW THE REST. I CRAMMED SOME SPAGHETTI AND MEATBALLS DOWN HIS PROTEIN CHUTE A FEW HOURS AFTER THE FIGHT. IF THAT ASSHOLE DIDN'T HAVE ME AROUND HE'D FUCKING STARVE. HE WOULDN'T STOP TALKING ABOUT YOUR GOGDAMN LIPS UNTIL I KICKED HIM OUT. IT WAS FUCKING EMBARRASING. SO YEAH, HAPPY-MURDEROUS-HAPPY. ALL IN A DAY'S WORK.

DAY EIGHT OF MURDERCLOWN WATCH: I HARDLY SLEPT LAST NIGHT, WONDERING WHERE THAT FUCKHEAD WENT. TOOK ME TWO HOURS WANDERING AROUND THE METEOR TO REALIZE HE PROBABLY JUST WENT TO YOUR ROOM. AS SUSPECTED, YOU TWO WERE MOONING OVER EACH OTHER LIKE THE WORST ROM-COM EVER WRITTEN. SERIOUSLY, YOU TWO ARE RETARDED FOR EACH OTHER. SHOVE YOUR COLLECTIVE SHIT UP YOUR COLLECTED ASSES AND GET OVER IT ALREADY. HE WAS IN A SHITTY MOOD WHEN HE LEFT YOUR ROOM. MUMBLED SOMETHING ABOUT YOU 'NOT READY.' FOR A RELATIONSHIP. WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT IS. READY FOR WHAT? TOAST? ANYWAY, I GOT HIM TO TAKE A NAP AFTER HE WROTE FOR AWHILE. AN HOUR LATER, HE WAKES UP MUTTERING ABOUT SOMETHING UNDER HIS BREATH AND WANDERS OFF. I TRY TO GET HIM BACK...BLUH BLUH, WON'T LISTEN, HUGGED A METEOR, DIED, AND KISSED YOU. AGAIN. TWICE. SERIOUSLY, GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER LALONDE. AFTER THAT HE WAS PRETTY STEADY. HIS OUTFIT IS GOGAWFUL, THOUGH. IT TOOK ME FOREVER TO GET HIM TO CHANGE OUT OF HIS 'ACTION PAJAMAS.' I TOOK HIM TO THE KITCHEN WITH ME TO GRAB SOME COLD GRUBLOAF AND SAUCE. IT'S HIS FAVORITE FOOD, SO I KNOW HE'LL ALWAYS EAT IT. (Aww) HE ACTED WEIRD WHEN WE WERE IN THERE, KEPT LOOKING BEHIND HIM. WHEN WE WERE EATING I ASKED HIM ABOUT THE MEDICINE YOU MENTIONED. HE WAS RESERVED ABOUT IT, BUT AFTER I BEAT HIM OVER THE HEAD, HE AGREED IT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA. IT BETTER NOT KILL HIM OR MAKE HIM STUPIDER THAN HE IS, I SWEAR TO GOG I'LL MAKE YOU PAY. HE LEFT FOR A LITTLE WHILE AFTER WE ATE, AND TO BE HONEST I WAS TOO TIRED TO CHASE HIM. HE LOOKED PRETTY HAPPY.

^EDIT^ FUCK YOU LALONDE. WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY TO HIM? HE'S BEEN MISERABLE THE REST OF THE NIGHT. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU HAVE QUADRANT VACILLATION. YOU CAN'T DECIDE IF YOUR PALE OR FLUSHED FOR HIM, AND IT'S MAKING HIM THE SADDEST DAMN CLOWN I'VE EVER SEEN. YOUR HUMAN ARTISTS WOULD PAINT PICTURES OF HIM ON VELVET AND HANG IT IN THEIR LIVING ROOMS. THERE IS ^LITERALLY^ NOTHING WORSE THAN A SAD CLOWN. IT'S FUCKING PITIFUL. HE WON'T EVEN TELL ME WHAT YOU TWO TALKED ABOUT. FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE. I'M GOING TO BE PAPPING HIM ALL DAMN NIGHT. SO I WON'T SLEEP. AGAIN. THANKS FOR THAT. I CAN'T EVEN STAND LOOKING AT THIS JOURNAL ANYMORE. I'M GIVING IT BACK TO YOU NOW.

Welp. If that doesn't make me feel guilty, I don't know what will. But it tells me the same story as before. Mood swings faster than a rock tied to a swing in the middle of a tornado. I am glad he had the sense to talk about the medicine with Gamzee, so I rather hope he will be amenable to it tomorrow. Preparing myself for more guilt, I crack open Gamz' journal.

HeY My RoSeSiS! HoNk HoNk! (The promised hearts and flowers litter the page around his words, making it harder to read, if that's possible.) BeEn ThInKiNg On WhAt AlL MaKeS Me HapPy AnD ShIt. I ReMeMbEr ThAt Me AnD mY bRoS wOuLd WaTcH tHe SuNrIsE bEfOrE wE wEnT tO SlEeP SoMeTiMeS. ThAt CoUnT? Oh! AnD My KaRbRo'S PuDgE! ShH! DoN't TeLl! It'S SuPeR CuTe AnD CoMfY aS hElL tO hUg On. I lIkE hOw ThE MeTeOr Is AlL QuIeT wHeN eVeRyOnE iS sLeEpInG. I iMaGiNe HeArInG ThE OcEaN aNd It FeElS lIkE i'M hOmE. i ReAlLy LiKe TaLkInG To YoU, mIrAcLe SiStEr. I mOtHeRfUcKiNg LoVe GrUb LoAf W/SaUcE! =0) i'D gEt YoU tO TrY iT iF iT DiDn'T mAkE YoU HiGh As FuCk. =0( ThAt FuCkEr DaVe WaS PrEtTy FuNnY wHeN TeReZi FeD It To HiM. I lIkE tHe SwOoSh SoUnD mY NeW ShIrTs MaKe WhEn I WaLk. SoUnDs LiKe A ShOoSh PaP. OiNkBeAsT MeAt Is AwEsOmE. AwWw, KaRbRo WoN't LeT mE wRiTe NoMoRe, He'S tAkInG mE tO tHe LaB tO MeSsAgE yOu! ThAt MaKes Me HapPy ToO! =0) HoNk HoNk!

HEY rosesis. I'M real SORRY i LOST MY SHIT at YOUR BROTHER, but that motherfucker kept saying NASTY SHIT ABOUT YOU and i LOST MY MOTHERFUCKING COOL. Bro shouldn't be SAYING SHIT LIKE THAT about a lady. MAKES ME WANT TO PUT HIS ASS IN ECHOSIDE with some MOTHERFUCKING HARSHWHIMSY AGAINST HIS HEAD. Ow. KaRbRo JuSt PaPpEd Me. I ReAlLy LiKeD hOw YoU mAdE mE sToP fIgHtInG HiM, ThO. **;**0)! HoNk! HALFWAY WORTH the fight to GET YOU tO dO ThAt AgAiN. **;**0) **;**0) **;**0) DeFiNiTeLy On My LiSt Of ThInGs ThAt MaKe Me HaPpY! MaCkIn' WiTh My RoSeSiS! Oh Gog. Embarrassing.

hey rose. FUCKING SORRY ABOUT BREAKING INTO YOUR ROOM. didn't mean to make you upset. JUST WANTED TO HOLD ON TO A MOTHERFUCKER AFTER LAST NIGHT. karkat kicked me out cuz i wouldn't stop talking about you. I GOT FUCKING EXITED AS HELL ON ACCOUNT OF YOU KISSING ON ME AND SHIT. i'm so stupid i thought you meant something by it. SORRY. =0(. (ARG! That is not the conversation we had in my bedroom! He needs to start being up front with me! Ha. Irony.) everybody calls me stupid. I JUST LAUGH ALONG SO I'M LAUGHING WITH THEM. i worry it's cuz of what all the sopor did to my thinkpan. I FEEL DIFFERENT THAN WHEN I WAS HOOKED, BUT I STILL FEEL LIKE A DUMBFUCK ALL THE TIME. can't remember to eat when i'm supposed to, do stupid things, get all mad as hell for no gogdamn reason. MAKES ME WISH I STILL HAD SLIME LEFT. it would be easier to deal with all this shit if i had some. IT WAS HOW I KEPT THE MESSIAHS QUIET WHEN WE WERE HOME. all the other subjuggs just gave in to it, but i thought it was fucking wrong. IT WAS PROBABLY STUPID THEN, TOO. real nice of you to tell me it was a good thing i tried to do for tavbro. I STILL FEEL GUILTY AS HELL FOR LETTING HIM GET KILLED BY THAT BITCH. shoulda kept my bro with me at all times like karbro does. AT LEAST KARBRO KNOWS HOW TO TAKE CARE OF A MOTHERFUCKER. ugh, my head hurts, gonna take a nap.

HeY mY mIrAcLe SiStEr! FeElInG PrEtTy PrOud Of MySeLf FoR SaViNg ThE MoThErFuCkInG DaY! AnD GeTtInG TWO kIsSeS fRoM a FiNe MoThErFuCkEr! **;**0) **;**0) **;**0) BoTh ArE DeF. ON tHe LiSt. OoOh! FlYiNg Is ThE ShIt! WoNdEr WhAt A kIsS iN mId-FlIgHt wOuLd Be LiKe? **;**0P ArAdIa'S AnCeStOr ToLd Me I wAs gOnNa Be ImPoRtAnT wHen iT cAmE tO SaViNg TrOlL-KiNd, tHaT CoUnT? My OuTfIt Is FlY aS HelL. MoThErFuCkErS ArE JuSt JeAlOuS oF mY fInE aSs. =0) HoNk! YoU kNoW yOu WaNt To Be A MoThErFuCkInG cOd TiEr LiKe Me!" It's so silly it makes me snerk with laughter. "ThE mUsIc BoXeS aRe PrEtTy LeGiT. AlL sHiNy AnD nIcE SoUnDiNg. ThE mEsSiAhs ArE qUiEtEr, So ThAt'S pReTtY AwEsOmE. KaRbRo WaNtS Me To Go GeT FoOd wItH hIm. LaTeR mY fInE sIsTeR!

hEY. motherFUCKING sorry I made YOU uncomfortable. FUCK. I'M always APOLOGIZING to YOU. i'm SO fucking STUPID, always FUCK shit UP. was FUN to FLIRT with YOU 'fore I made EVERYTHING weird. PROMISE i WON'T bug YOU about IT again. YOU gotta DO whats RIGHT for YOU, sister. I don't EVEN know IF you WANT to HELP a BROTHER anymore. MAYBE you FUCKING shouldn't. I DESERVE THIS. (I have to stop for a second. It's just so damn sad. It's not his fault I'm so bizarre.) but I promised I would WRITE. so THE least I can DO is KEEP a FUCKING promise. KARBRO talked TO me ABOUT the MEDICINE, i GUESS its WORTH a TRY? gotta SAY i'm SCARED it WILL rot MY pan LIKE sopor, BUT if YOU think IT will HELP. i TRUST what YOU say, I guess. you BRING the MOTHERFUCKING miracles, SISTER. my PALEBRO says I gotta AT least TRY. you WERE right, THO. i DID steal YOUR soap. SMELLED so MOTHERFUCKING good, I wanted A little BIT of SHANGRI-LA for MYSELF. =0).

There's a few pages of doodles, mostly of flowers, bees, snails, and a goat-fish looking thing. I'll have to ask. The one that makes me laugh the most is the 'endless faygo fountain.' One looks like Aradia, but older. Must be the ancestor. Glancing over at the clock, I'm surprised to see it's almost two a.m. I really need to get to sleep. I decide to check the ship to make sure everyone is where they are supposed to be. Terezi, Kanaya, Dave, and Karkat seem to be sound asleep. Gamzee, however, is wandering the meteor. Gogdamnit. I don't want him to get the wrong idea, but I feel so fucking guilty. I tap my fingers nervously, deciding. Fuck it. I call out the blow-up mattress and set it up on the floor next to my bed, throwing on all the extra pillows and blankets I have. It's a boundary. I put a long sweater over my sleep tank top and float out in the general direction of Gamzee's blip. I should have guessed he was in the library, he said he liked it there the first night I met him.


	34. Chapter 34

The first thing I hear when I float in is a muffled sob. DAMMIT. "Gamz? Why aren't you in bed?" He sits up from a pile of books with a sniffle, wiping away tears and smearing his make-up. "Oh, hey. Um, couldn't get my sleeping on. Didn't wanna bother Karbro, cuz he was real patient tonight, but he's so tired I wanted to let a brother motherfucking sleep. What are you doing up, Rosesis?" I float over, landing in front of him, "Getting you to sleep. That's what I'm doing. Come on, we can fly back to my room." He stares at my hand like it's an invading alien at first, but eventually takes it. Fuck me he doesn't trust me anymore. Fuck fuck fuck. "But...didn't you up and say you didn't want a bed buddy? I don't want to hafta up and apologize for doing something stupid again." I give him my winningest smile. "You won't be sleeping in bed with me, I have an extra set up for you. It's right next to mine, in case you have a bad dream and need to talk about it, kay?" He gives me a weak smile and flits off of his feet. "Kay. Lead the way mamacita." Karkat's right. There is nothing worse than a sad clown. Right in the feels!

We make quick work of the return trip, and he smiles appreciatively when he sees the extra bed. I pull him up short, re-routing him to the bathroom. "Hang on, clown boy. That make-up is coming off before you settle in." His eyes widen in panic, which I hadn't expected. "Did I say something inappropriate? Are you okay?" He lands in front of the bathroom door. "Ain't let a motherfucker other than Karbro see my real face since...uhm..." Oh shit. OH SHIT OH SHIT. "Oh. My apologies, then. If you'd like to keep it on..." He squeezes my hand halfway through my fumbling apology. "Nah. It's good, sister. I get you. Karbro's seen my face plenty of times and he ain't complaining." He turns into the bathroom, but my brain won't tell my hand to let go. He looks back, head tilted with a 'what now' face. "Let me help you." adfasdjfasl;kfmj I'm so stupid. I see him visibly quake at the suggestion so I immediately attempt to apologize, again, "Oh, I, ah. I mean I have make-up removers...that are better than..." he just puts a finger to my lips and tugs me in after him.

Why do I keep doing this to myself. I sit him down on the edge of the tub, where he fidgets nervously, tapping his fingers against his thigh. Trying to make this less awkward than it already is, I busy myself under my counter, pulling out the best makeup remover I have, (St. Ives) handing it to him. "Let me get you a wet cloth and dry, and then I'll be out of your way." He glances my way with a shy smile, "Yo, Rosesis. Can't read the bottle. Am I supposed to eat it?" That makes me laugh. "No, Gamz. Sorry, I keep forgetting you guys can't really read English. It's so weird the game lets us talk to one another. Here, hand it over and I'll explain." He fiddles with the wet washcloth I handed him before speaking, "You mind doing it for me? I'll probably screw it up, anyhow."

He isn't looking at me, holding out the bottle of remover. It's painfully obvious he's trying to make it seem like it doesn't matter, but really it would mean the world to him if I would. Fuck me in the elbow, more mixed messages. "Sure. I'm not gonna do it bending over you though, this tank top isn't too forgiving. Come here." I pull him up, sit on the sink counter, and steer him as close as I dare without making it weird. I run the wet cloth under hot water, quickly wiping down his face and removing a bulk of the paint. His hands are shaking uncontrollably, eyes closed. It's so sad, and so damn adorable. I stop long enough to ask, "Are you sure this is okay?" He peeks at me under his eyelashes, taking a steadying breath. "Yeah. I'm good. You right?" I stick my tongue out at him and he honks a soft laugh.

I squirt a dollop of the remover into both hands, working it up into a lather before touching his face. He unconsciously presses into my hands as I work to get all of the paint off, starting from his hairline down. The scars start at his right temple, arching down to his left jaw in vicious parallel lines. From what I heard from Kanaya, he had inflicted those on himself when he had temporarily lost his mind. He makes a keening sound when I finish with the soap under his chin. I feel horrible. I can't believe he's trusting me with this when I've been so awful with him. "Hold still, I still have to wipe everything off, kay?" He nods, not daring to open his eyes.

I run the second wet cloth under hot again, working the same pattern as I had with the soap. I'm very careful to make certain there's none left, going over a few spots out of paranoia. Without the makeup, he's very handsome. High cheekbones, strong jaw, aquiline nose. Very aesthetically pleasing. The scars do little to take away from that. Could be the eye of the beholder, though. I cup his chin and turn his head from side to side, making sure I've gotten everything. I really don't want to let go. If I don't get out of this room right now...shit. Stupid hormones.

I dab gently with the dry cloth, taking care to get every micron of moisture. He sighs in my hand, nuzzling it a little. My thumb traces over the scars, his eyes jerk open in shock. He doesn't pull away, though. "Do they still hurt?" I ask. With something close to wonder, his hand covers over mine, stopping it's movement. "Not really. Sometimes I think they do, but it's just in my head. Usually that's when I'm having a bad day. You ain't scared of them?" I give him a 'are you fucking kidding me?' look. "No. Not at all. They're part of you, and that's good enough." His breath hitches. I have to stop before I do something stupid. I jump down from the counter, moving out of the danger zone. "Come on, I gotta tell you something before we sleep anyway."

He follows me placidly from the bathroom, refusing to let go of my hand. I turn back to him, "Do you have anything to sleep in other than what you're wearing now?" He looks a little embarrassed, "Nah. I don't usually sleep with a motherfucking stitch on." Well then. "I wouldn't recommend that now, but I think I have a pair of sweats that might fit you. They're huge on me." He shrugs, "Sure." I pull out the shirt and pant set I alchemized when I first started fiddling with the machines on the meteor. They are more or less three sizes too big for me. Unfortunately they have the phrase 'Juicy' emblazoned in the seat. I'll just hope he doesn't notice. Handing them over, he gives me a wicked grin, "Wanna help me with these too?" I roll my eyes at him and point to the bathroom silently.

He meekly goes in, but comes sauntering back out. The shirt is way too tight, but the pants fit well enough. They stop about mid-calf on him. "Please, if the shirt is too tight, don't wear it. How the hell do your wings even fit in it?" He waggles his eyebrows, "Miracles," as he takes it back off. Oh. Hmm. He has those thingies on his stomach that make smart girls stupid. Stop looking! I break eye contact just in time for my shirt to come flying back at my head to hoots of his laughter. "HAHAHA, Getting you an eyeful, sister?!" I shrug deferentially. "Sorry. Hormones. They're a bitch." He flops down at the end of my bed, "Tell me about it, chica."

He rolls to his side to give me his full attention, "What all do you have to tell me? I gots an itchin for some knowledge." I sit cross legged at the top of the bed, evaluating what exactly it is I want to say. He seems content to wait. I rub my forehead nervously. "When I first read your journal, what made me cry the most was when you talked about your lusus." He sits silently, waiting for me to continue. "It reminded me a great deal of my relationship with my mother. We lived in the same house, but we might as well have lived on different planets. The only time we spoke is if we were arguing, and if we were not arguing, we didn't speak at all."

He lets out a hiss of breath, "Shit, sorry Rosesis." I shrug, "It's not your fault. What really struck me is how the love of your parent was directly linked to your self worth. I do the same thing, and I know how much it can really fuck you up. Pardon the language." He raises a brow ironically, "Nah girl, let those fucks fly." I take another deep breath, this is it. "It's pretty much why I'm having a hard time with the matespirit thing." This gets his attention, sitting up to imitate my crosslegged position. "I just can't imagine why someone would want...something like that from me. I always thought it was something that happened to others, and not myself. I was okay with that. I'd spent years building up an acerbic wit and a frosty demeanor, and you come along and walk right by it like it's nothing. It shook me up. I'm still quite confused, really."

His face reveals a mixture between shock and pleasure. He quickly schools it into serenity before he replies, "Damn, baby girl, why didn't you up and say something to a motherfucker. I mean, you just did, but damn. I'm guessin that's why you asked for all these goings on to be slowlike?" I nod, hoping he understands. "Motherfuck. I wouldn't want to go real fast either. But that's some bullshit. You not thinking you deserve flushed feelings from a motherfucker. Ain't nobody I ever met not deserve them from someone. You shouldn't be hiding those miracles from the world." He scoots a little closer, grabbing one of my hands. "Shit. Let's be shellbeasts. You fix my head, I'll try to help you out. Deal?" I've never been proposed to in such a way, but for him, it's cute. I nod, "Sure. Shellbeasts it is." His laugh is light and easy. "Hugs okay?" I punch him on the shoulder. "Duh." He pulls me closer, "Thanks. Needed that know, girl." I tell him he's welcome. A few cuddles and hugs later, we bid each other adieu for some shuteye. It's fucking five a.m.

Not two hours later, my door shooshes open and a certain stompy grumpy fellow makes his way into the room. Cracking open an eye, I wave and point at the pile next to me. Gamzee is snoring loudly, his ass jutting out of the pile all impudent and 'juicy'. Karkat's eyes boggle, and he takes a deep breath to expel what I assume to be loud expletives. I slap magic over his mouth to stop him from speaking. I am not getting up right now. Twitching a finger, I bring him over to Gamzee's pile and throw him in. I hear muffled screams as Gamz turns in his sleep, grey arms whipping out of the pile and pulling Kar in. "Hey best friend." It's like watching someone getting sucked into a quicksand trap on the Discovery channel. A middle finger is all that's left of him by the time they shift around comfortably. Bemused smile on my face, I drift back off to oblivion.


	35. Chapter 35

It's mid-afternoon, the shower is running in the bathroom. Stretching out languidly, I turn over to see who's still in the pile. Gamzee is wearing my headphones, fiddling with a hand held gaming device. He's blissfully unaware of the world, so I take the opportunity to study him. His hair is a hot mess, sticking up at odd angles in some places, flat in others. His already painted face is all angles and smooth planes, interrupted by the scars. I know he considers them a reminder of something horrible, but they really don't take away from his good looks. His honey gold eyes and indigo irises busily scan the screen while he mumbles under his breath, "Run, motherfucker! Those little dudes are gonna get ya!" He nibbles on his lip in concentration, conic teeth digging into his skin in a tantalizing way. Hm. He has fangs. I don't know if that's a fulfillment of my vampire fangirl dream or creepy. I'll withhold judgment for now. His bottom lip juts into a pout, "Damn, dude! Don't be runnin off the platform like that! Fuck. Now I gotta start the whole level over." He snaps the top closed with a grumpy exhalation.

I close my eyes so I don't look like a creepy lurker. He perches his chin on the edge of my bed, and a finger pokes me on the nose. "Honk. Wake up motherfucker!" Opening my eyes into slits, indigo irises look dreamily into my own. "Morning Rosesis. Sleep good?" I nod and yawn, moving back to give him enough room to join me on the bed, patting it in invitation. He stands and stretches his arms over his head, giving me a show of his toned torso. Hmm. What the fuck are those purple ridges on his sides? I give myself a mental note to ask later. He plops down noisily next to me, sweeping me into a cuddle. I settle my head onto his shoulder with a contented sigh that's answered by a faint rumble.

"I was thinkin on what all we should talk about today. Could we..talk about my goat dad?" I hadn't really given thought to therapy in bed, but I admit it's rather comfortable. But I have to pee and I need a shower. And he has to do something with that mop of hair. I stretch again, arching my back and clawing at the air behind me. His soft hum of appreciation makes me blush and shift my shirt into its proper position. "Certainly, Gamzee, but after breakfast and showers for both of us." He scratches my sides lightly in a tickle as he whispers in my ear, "You gonna help me again? I'm thinkin there's a few places a brother can't reach too well." I squirm and giggle, slapping his stomach. "No, Mr. Makara, I believe you will be fine on your own." I bat at his arms until he raises them in defense with a goofy grin. "Damn. Can't blame a ninja for trying." I roll my eyes, "Of course not, Mr. Makara. My genetics are nothing if not appealing." I get out of bed and stand, popping my shoulders and neck. I hear a soft grumble behind me, but I ignore it in favor of finding an outfit for the day. Need some sunshine in my life. Action Pajamas!

Karkat is the longest shower taker ever. It is him. He has all the water. All of it. By the time he's finished, we've started breakfast, tied back Gamzee's messy hair, (It was an undertaking, trust me.) discussed what medicines he should take and when, and are in full goatdad discussion mode. He finally emerges, towel wrapped firmly around his hair. I almost choke on the bacon I'm eating. "What? Jade showed me how once. It keeps my shoulders dry! Shut up!" I shake my head mirthfully and say nothing. What I'd really like to know is why he was looking at her in the shower. Naughty boy! I pat Gamzee's hand, "I'll be right back." He mumbles an ophkay through a mouthful of egg. This is probably the most relaxed I've been since starting this clusterfuck.

I finish quickly, not wanting to forget what he had just said, "It's just like, sometimes a motherfucker feels like the whole world revolves around his lusus. They're supposed to teach us how to be righteous motherfuckers, but he was never around. I always wondered if it was something I did..." Damn that's harsh. And too much like my own feelings on the subject. I'm quite pleased I decided to follow Karkat's suggestion, though I made Gamzee promise not to tell him. He'd be an insufferable prick if he found out.

Its turned up pay dirt for his therapy. He's much more comfortable, easily discussing anything I ask of him. I brush down my bangs and rub pomade between my fingers to wet-style my new haircut. So. Awesome. Action pajamas in place, I open the door to rejoin my companions. And see only Gamzee lounging on the beanbags I set out, diddling with a paint-set I appearified earlier. "Wherever did Mr. Vantas go?" I question, sitting next to him. He finishes a petal with an inexpert swirl, "He said it was stupid to stay, went to see Terezi." I'll have to talk to him about that.

No time like the present, I guess. It's not like I'm alone in the room with a hot shirtless clown or anything. "Right then, have you ever considered that your lusus' shortcomings as a caretaker was his own fault, rather than your own?" He starts drawing something that looks like Aradia's music boxes, "Not really. They're the ones who are supposed to know what all to do and say and shit." I hmm, adding a sticker from the paint set on the edge of his picture, "Just because someone is a caretaker, or in my case, adult, doesn't mean that they know what they are doing." He nods, adding blue to it, "Guess so. I mean, I never know what the fuck I'm doing. That mean it don't matter how old you are, you're still never gonna know what's up?"

He always surprises me with how astute he is. "More or less. I've found that regardless of one's age or position, it is rare that one really knows how their actions effect the rest of the world." He doodles a frowny face. "Huh. Goat dad didn't know what he was doing was wrong?" Wow. He admitted it! "I cannot vouch for his thoughts, but it certainly seems he was unaware of his affect on you. Whether that be a willing or unwilling ignorance, I cannot tell you." A flower goes over the frown, a delicate rose, "That sucks. Suppose it makes sense, in a way. Ain't got to tell you how many times I wished he'd come home. But you're saying it ain't my motherfucking fault that asshole never came to see me?" He peeks at me with a sidelong glance, sad and wanting. "No. He made his own choices. It's his fault he missed out on someone so wonderful." He bumps my shoulder with a shy smile. "Motherfuck then. Been up and worrying about that shit for ages, weighing down a brother." He finishes the rose, which is a bright red, edging the tips with purple.

Quite a few sheets of paper later, I feel it's time to end the session. "Can you take these back to Karkat?" I hand him back the journals when he nods. "I want you to keep a different list these next few days. It's going to be a little harder, I think." He raises an eyebrow, curious. "I want a list of things that make you angry, or upset. Is this acceptable?" He rubs his forehead with worry, frowning slightly, "A motherfucker can try. Ain't making no promises. Can I still list stuff that makes me happy, too?" I put an arm around his chilly shoulder and squeeze. "Of course. It's your journal. You put what you want in it. Here's the medicine we talked about earlier. I've written a timetable of what to take when in the back of both your and Karkat's notebook. Be aware it won't work immediately. It should take a few days to kick in. Just try to take it at regular intervals." He takes the passionflower teabags and bag of Valerian root capsules in his hands carefully, slipping them into his captchalouge. "Could you show me how to make the tea so it don't taste like shit? Can I put it in Faygo?" Goofy nut. "Sure. I don't recommend the Faygo though. Somehow hot soda just sounds terrible."

**TentacleTherapist has begun pestering CarcinoGeneticist**

TT: Mr. Vantas, I thought we had agreed you would be present for all of Gamzee's sessions until I said otherwise?

TT: Regardless, I wanted to remind you of his medication regimen. I have it written in the back of your journal, but I am nothing if not careful. Please do the following:

TT: Morning: Bath with lemongrass oil (2 capfuls), Bergamot oil (3 capfuls), and grapefruit oil (4 capfuls).

TT: Directly after bath, please give passionflower tea, he seems to like it with two spoonfuls of honey and a spoonful of sugar. 4 capsules of the Valerian root.

TT: The Valerian root pills should be taken every four hours until he goes to bed.

TT: He should have passionflower tea again an hour before he goes to sleep.

TT: Evening: Same bath as earlier.

TT: I know it is difficult, and in many ways annoying, but I do appreciate that you are willing to do this for your friend. Good luck.

TT: And just for your edification, you should start to see results within a week or two. The herbs have to build up to a workable level in his system.

TT: Do not be surprised if he is a little sleepy at first, it will take some getting used to.

**TentacleTherapist has ceased pestering CarcinoGeneticist**

CG: Thanks.


	36. Chapter 36

And so it goes. Days, then months, pass. For the most part, his therapy goes by rather well. I convince Karkat to continue to sit in on our sessions, even though he says his moirail is 'retarded' for me, and therefore, 'not fucking dangerous.' I tend to disagree. Though the herbal remedies I found seem to be working, I'm still hesitant to be alone with him while discussing triggering issues. Sure, I can hold him still with magic, but not for long. Hell, they're triggering issues for me, too. I just don't tell anyone about it.

We've just finished another marathon session, I feel like we've hit a plateau. It's frustrating, but there's not much I can do. A patient has to be willing to move on. His greatest fear is that of abandonment, so potent it links all of his issues like a Gordian knot. His fear drove his aggression when he lost his religion, raging against yet another disappointment by an important figure in his life. It continually makes him insecure about those around him, though he rarely shows it. We hover around and around the topic of his lusus like bees waiting a turn with particularly juicy flower.

I feel officially spent. Regrets about my mother and I drag across my mind like rusted nails coated in salt. It's going to be another bad night. Power crackles around me in uneven patterns, scorching the metal walls of my room. I was able to hold out during the session, but I'm not going to much longer. Pacing doesn't work. Knitting doesn't work. Bullshit snarky conversation will not work. I'm not going to bother Kan at this hour, anyway. I need release. On Earth, I used to dabble in witchcraft, both as something to peeve my mother, and as a genuine relaxation tool. I've taken it up again on the meteor as a way of passing the time, but I need ritual and comfort tonight.

I dress in a black ritual cloak, cowl and all. I convinced Kanaya into doing it after a laborious explanation of my former religious practices. She was very excited, but hated the idea of using black. It's more of a sparkly grey trimmed in a satin fabric that compliments my eyes. Close enough. The airlock door bursts in front of me with a violent push of magic. Over and over my mind endlessly replays every argument, every acidic diatribe. Every closing fucking door, signaling the end of another pointless battle. There was never a victor, just sulking loss. I shoot across the meteor, black fire licking off of my fingertips. My nerves jangle with disappointment and anger, so raw and electric it makes my bones hurt. Our last argument replays in my mind, every hollow word feeds the fire, streaking across the Void in front of me.

Landing in the crater I've chosen for my ritual grounds, I slam my altar to the center of the pentagram I designed out of loose rock all those months ago. Hands shaking, I turn on my Mp3 player to Afro-Celt Soundsystem's "Dark Moon, High Tide," on repeat. Something about that song is particularly evocative for me. I don't even know why I bother anymore. The universe where my goddess resided is dead. Can you kill a spirit? Or does it travel with you? I shake myself out of my musings, hurrying on. Control isn't something I'll have for much longer, so I'd better take care to use it now. Black fire interspersed with white lightning licks around the circle, alternately making it pitch black and blindingly white. The earth shakes beneath me as I begin a deosil clockwise, raising power to set and protect the circle. Making way thrice round, my chant becomes a mantra, words running into one another as molecules in water would:

By the air that is her breath,

By the fire of her spirit,

By the waters of her womb,

As above, so below,

The circle is made whole.

I stop at the western corner, stabbing an athame into my intended gateway. Something is off. The crater groans and wobbles, the earth below writhes. I keep hearing the slamming door. The screams into my pillow. The slamming door. The I hate-yous screamed in action, not words. The door, the door, the door, the DOOR THE DOOR THE FUCKING DOOR EVERY DAMN TIME SHE FINDS A FUCKING DOOR AND SLAMS IT SHUT AND I NEVER EVER GET TO SAY I'M SORRY, NEVER SAY I LOVE YOU. SHE FUCKING DIED AND IT'S ALL MY FAULT. Crouching and clutching my head at the center of the circle, black clouds and fire stream from my body into the Void. It's an endless expanse that will never fully relieve my heart of it's bitterness. I could push out that fire forever and never rid myself of the emptiness I feel. I could break and destroy everything on this meteor, end this stupid mission forever, but never feel whole. Hoarse howls and screeches fill the air, like the voices of the lost dead. I claw at my throat, hanging in the air. I'm speaking in tongues. The withering hollowness envelopes me like a poisonous blanket. Lightning shoots from my eyes and fingers, destroying everything it comes in contact with within the circle. Fuck. I'm Grimdark, and there's nothing I can do about it.

I'm shaking apart from the inside, unearthly moans escaping from my lips, forming endless blasphemy in the language of the woegothics. I am nothing, I destroy everything. I am a black rage contained in the head of a pin, the expanse of the stars. Writhing in agony, power within slowly begins to slice away the outermost layer of my skin. Blood as black as ink run in rivulets from every orifice. There is no stopping, only breathtakingly painful release. No thought can enter into the haze of dire terror within. Crumpling into a heap before the altar, each new wave of force twists my shattered form with malicious glee. Death awaits me at the end of this terrible trial, something willingly accepted. I thank the Void profusely that this breakdown remains reigned within the circle, directed outwardly into nothingness. Almost poetic, all my previous passive aggressive rages had also destroyed nothing. Nothing but the one who had them.

Screaming. Screaming permeates my awareness. Black fire surrounds, turning all it touches to molten waste. Pulsing power pours from me in an unending stream, black blood running down my raw throat from the wild cries it utters to the Void. The scream is not my own. With the last bit of effort I have, I scan around the top of the crater. Jegus. Gamzee. I weakly wave him away, preferring my own death to his destruction. His face is a mask of panic and pain, adding to the many guilts and faults that run in an unerring track in my mind. He flies to the western corner dodging deadly fingers of darkness and lands, frenetically gesticulating. No, not...gesticulating...FUCK! NO! Juggling. A white-hot athame. How does he fucking know how to do that? I've never once shared a ritual with anyone! He carefully traces a door, steps in, and closes it again.

All of the power trapped within the circle comes to bear down on the hapless troll. An elegant ballet unfolds, he dodges and rolls, flash stepping across the expanse of the circle. The circle implodes on itself, searching with wormy fingers for purchase on that purple asshole. Hissing white lighting pours from the sides, zig-zagging this way and that in a punishing rhythm. One strikes home on his arm, pushing him away while eliciting a cry of "MOTHERFUCK!" I'm prisoner to my weakness, unable to speak, move, or stop the awful music that is Grimdark. He lands, springs up, sprints forward, bursting through my coffin of jet flames, and scoops me up. The stink of scorching skin saturates the air, "Motherfucker! I said I'd help you, and I'll up and fuck off to Echo Side if I'd go back on a motherfucking contract." His blistered hands cradle my face with care, "Rosesis! Fuck! Come on, baby girl, come back to me!" His lips forcefully overtake mine in desperation. The fire closes over us both, and I pray to my dead goddess that death is swift.


	37. Chapter 37

Death remains at bay, laughing in the distance, for now. His crooked middle fingers waggle insult. It would be a relief from the agony, at this point. I've drifted for days on end, in and out, mummified by gauze. I hear snippets of conversation, "DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE MAKE A SILABANT OF RAGE-NOISE AT ME YOU NOOKSNIFFING DOUCHE CANOE! I GET MY ASS WOKEN OUT OF A SOUND SLEEP BY YOUR FLUSH-CRUSH'S NEAR ATTEMPT TO CRUSH THE METEOR IN A FIT OF PIQUE, AND THEN SHIT MY AFORE MENTIONED PRISTINE GLUTEALS PROFOUNDLY WHEN I SEE YOU DIVE INTO THE NINTH CIRCLE OF HELL. TO RESCUE HER. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME." "This is like when she went all batshit insane when she found out her mom died. Chick near killed Jack with her bad-ass self. It was like watching the worst kung-fu movie in history." "Karkat, I Must Insist That You Desist From This Yelling This Instant, You Are Not Helping Her Recovery. If You Wish To Continue Yelling At Gamzee, Take It Outside Of This Room! Mr. Makara! If You Would Please Leave?!" "not fucking HAPPENING, glowysis. I gots the WICKED UNDERSTANDING that you're up and helping Rosesis, BUT I AIN'T LEAVING. I gotta do what feels right, my sister. MEANS STAYING MY ASS RIGHT HERE."

Nothing feels real anymore. Time morphs, a distortion of it's former self. Minutes feel like hours, hours mere seconds that pass by. Escher in his wildest dreams could not tessellate the horror that haunts my waking and sleeping moments. All I see is her face, in varying degrees of accusation or condescension. I moan weakly and swipe the air, trying to dissolve the apparition before me. It's like splashing your hand through a reflection in water, returning to it's former shape easily. Gog what I would give to be in oblivion right now. The air near my ear is disturbed by a snore. I already know who it is, so I don't bother looking.

I raise my arm again, swatting at the rippling face of my mother. I must be high as hell. I wonder what they gave me. Thankfully, it is an arm not covered in poorly applied bandages. I roll to a sitting position, Gamzee shifting uneasily in his sleep with a "nnngh," and curling around me. Taking stock, I see that I am not, in fact, a burning wasteland of Rose LaLonde. Skin marred by scabs greet me as I rearrange my clothes to inspect every inch of flesh that is capable of being seen. I might not be dead, but I am a hot mess. And super itchy. How long have I been asleep/awake? My head is muzzy with the loss of time. I don't even know if I can stand on my own. Fuck standing. I can float. Extricating myself from his sleepy snuggles with care, I float inches off the floor towards the bathroom. The room has an unreal quality to it, as if I haven't seen it in years. The tile is too white, the soaps a garish rainbow affront to my eyes. Even the toilet offends me with it's brightness. Blinking blearily, I settle into the tub, too tired to take off my sleep-clothes. I might have magic at my beck and call, but it still takes its toll with vengeance. I rub my temples, waiting for the headache to subside long enough to get everything I need.

In the other room, Gamzee's snore cuts off with a 'snrk!' Oh gogs, I haven't even closed the bathroom door. I try to Push it closed, but it won't budge. I am a wasted battery of impotency. I can hear him searching the covers frantically before he leaps out of the bed. A fast lope tells me exactly where he's going. If I had the energy to be snarky... "Gog Damn, miracle sister. You are a fucking sight for some sore-ass eyes." He drops his knees next to the tub, grabbing me in a slightly painful hug. He feels my tension and lets go, worried eyes scanning over me with a clinical glance. "Ain't much a bath if there's no water, sister. How'd you all up and get in here, anyhows?" There is no way out of this clusterfuck with dignity.

I give in, leaning my head on the tub lip. "I floated. I highly doubt the temerity of my legs." He snorts a laugh, his face a mask of relief as he ruffles my hair. "No shit, mamacita. You ain't been up and walkin for near a week now. Been sleepin like a new-hatched wriggler. Cute as hell." He doesn't even try to look embarrassed as he says it. Fine. I will express the embarrassment. All of it. Heat starts working it's way up my face as he continues to gaze at me, calculatingly. "You up and need a long-ass soak, magic sister. I ain't about to be untoward to a motherfucker, but you can't get your ablution on with threads coverin you."

Oh. My. Gog. no. no, that is not happening. He reaches out with an assured grace that rarely visits his form, swiftly tugging the hem of my sleep shirt over my head in a fluid movement. I am a mess of cuts and burns, and what isn't covered in the aforementioned is a bright red, full body blush. I battle his arms weakly, fighting for what's left of my pride. "Chill out, Rosesis. Won't even get my look on at a fine motherfucker. Not gonna get my grope on, neither." He swats my arms away, making a show of closing his eyes, "See? Can't see a blessed miracle, sister." I relent, letting him hook his fingers under the waistband of both my shorts and underwear, shimmying them delicately down my legs. It's not like I'd be able to move enough to do it. Everything is swimming in and out of focus like a fucked up kaleidoscope. He hums a soothing song into the top of my head as he leans me forward into his chest, expertly divesting me of my bra.

"Mr. Makara, if I didn't know better, I'd say you have practice at taking clothing off people. How has that come to pass?" He grins as he turns his back, folding my clothes neatly and placing them on a nearby shelf. "My baking used to make people do all kindsa silly shit. They'd end up all fucked up and friendly on the beach, muttering miracles to themselves, and I'd have to carry their high asses back to the ablution chamber to wash up. Terecita would never admit it, but she loved her some pie when she visited. Got pretty good at it, anyhow." I cough a chuckle, too tired to do much else. "I see. You are a professional ablution-giver. I am blessed to be in your presence, sir."

An indigo blush touches the tips of his ears. I realize he's standing in the bathroom with the naked object of his desires. Awkward. "You, ah, got anything else you need a motherfucker to do? I'ma get my scoot on if you don't." I test my self, reaching for the soap and bubble bath behind me. Magic fizzles out without accuracy, knocking over the shampoo bottles by my head. Damn. "If you wouldn't mind giving me the soap and bubble bath under the counter, and maybe a terrycloth scrubbing square?" He nods mutely, covering the side of his face politely as he rummages under the sink, handing me lemongrass soap and grapefruit bubble bath. A washcloth floats down on my head before I register the soft click of the bathroom door.


	38. Chapter 38

I'm bubbling away contentedly in the scaldingly hot whirlpool when Kan comes bustling in, a terror of glowy fussiness. "He Did Nothing Untoward, Did He?" Her typing quirk gets through to her speech when she's angry. "Not at all. Perfect gentleman, in fact. Closed his eyes and everything. He should get a medal for being so good." Her brow forms a questioning reticence as she leans down toward me, "You must be well. Your snarky hoofbeastshit has returned. I thought I was going to have a comatose moirail for the rest of my days."

I attempt to pat her head with my wet hand, which she backs away from, scandalized. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to coif my hair so? What are you thinking, honestly?!" I roll my eyes, "Good to see you are so concerned for my well-being, Kanaya. I'm feeling less like a pile of dung as the hour passes, thanks for asking." She scowls at me. It's fun to tease her. Running a hand through her neatly primped hair, she replies, "Yes. I am glad that you are well. It has not been a fun few days for me, I am afraid. Karkat is up in arms over your so-called 'enormities' and wants you 'nowhere fucking near' his moirail. If not for his stubborn obstinacy to leave your side, and my chainsaw, I believe Karkat may have attempted to bring you harm." It's so out of his character, it's hard to imagine.

I plish the water with a finger petulantly, remembering the awful power and the memories that triggered it. "Perhaps you should have let him." She squats down with speed, dunking my head beneath the bubbles. I come scrambling back up, squalling for air. "That is unacceptable! Self-loathing is an ugly color on you, Ms. LaLonde. I will not hear of it. Of all the people on this ship, you should be perceptive enough to grasp the idea of second chances. Your power had been directed at none but yourself, you asinine, suicidal, pink monkey! How Dare You!? To Attempt Such A Feat Out Of Such Self Hatred! I Could...I..." She runs out of steam, panting and glaring at me.

Is that what it looked like? A suicide attempt? Dear gogs in the Void! "Suicide? Honestly." I shift so my chin rests a few inches from her own on the tub lip. She won't even look at me, screwing her eyes shut. "Gaze into my eyes, you glowing hag." An eyebrow raises as her lips become knife-thin across her face. But she looks. "I. Was. Not. Trying. To. Kill. Myself. I had gone to the crater with the full intention of relaxing after a rather taxing session of therapy with Gamzee. Many of his own problems I see reflected within myself, which can be difficult to handle at times. I was just going to do a simple power-rising and commune with my dead goddess."

Her face is querulous disbelief. I sigh and continue. "What I had not expected, however, was a bit of a breakdown on my part. Much of what we had discussed about his neglectful lusus made me harken back to my life on Earth with my mother, and all of the awful things we said and did. Not to mention the fact I never had a chance to apologize to her prior to her death. I felt bereft, and sought to console myself. I did not know my emotions were so wildly out of control until it was too late."

She bonks her forehead against my own. "Your explanation...is plausible. Why did you not come to me? I would have been more than willing to jam with you." Augh. This again. "I did not wish to wake you. I wanted to be alone." She flashes me a look of hurt before gathering herself up. "Clearly. You always do." Her brusqueness doesn't hide her disappointment. "Kan, please, I..." She stops me with a dismissive gesture. "Never mind. I shall get you something to wear and eat. That sleeping outfit is going into the incinerator." I stare at my neatly painted bathroom door as it closes after her. Fuck. I'm practically tap-dancing all over frail troll emotions over here. Fuck fuck fuck. Maybe I can catch her before she absconds. I towel off, pink skin peeking out beneath the last few scabs still clinging to me as barnacles would. The joy of being god tier means it is rare that one gets scars. As always, Kanyana's choice in outfits accentuates my good traits, and plays up the color of my eyes. Thankfully it's a long-sleeve number that covers up most of what's left of my Grimdark episode.


	39. Chapter 39

I walk out, smelling the delicious confectionery of pancake wafting in the air. The table is set with flowers, steaming tea waiting at the center. But no Kanaya. I gaze around the room furtively, she is not to be found. Gamzee rolls off the bed, silently meeting me with a hug. "She up and left, Rosesis. Said she had some doings on. Wants me to keep you company rest of the day." I nod awkwardly into his chest, pushing away lightly, "Shall we eat?" We sit in companionable silence across from one another, filling our plates until they're fit to burst. Thousands of questions burn at the back of my mind, but I just can't think of a way to pose them. At least not politely. I bite down on my lip, not even caring it re-splits. He reaches around the table easily, pulling my chair next to his. With an arm snugly around my waist, "What's your thinkpan on, sister? Been real quiet up and here and I'm sick to motherfucking death of it. Talk."

Okay. I can do this. I'll start with the easy questions first. "Have you not worn makeup the entire time?" I don't have to qualify my question, he knows what I mean. He clears his throat, "Naw, sister. Didn't want to get it all over your bed covers, I up and remembered you harshing me on that." Poking him playfully in his side, "Thank you. I feel lucky you didn't paint me in my sleep." A devious smile twists his face, "Don't worry none, sister, I'll get you in the wicked testament yet."

Stepping up to the harder questions,"How did you know the right way to enter the circle?" He shifts, unconsciously squeezing my middle and blushing. "Heh. I...ahm. Been wonderin where you disappear off to sometimes. One night I up and followed you to the crater, watched you get your magic on. Move like purest poetry, you do, my miracle sis. Don't even know how your feets got their learn on to move so smooth." I figured as much, but it still makes me cringe a little. That shit is Private. I want to say something biting, but he looks so ashamed.I swallow it down, "I see. I'll admit I'm a bit bothered by that, but I suppose I can ignore it in favor of the greater picture. Why did you enter the circle when it clearly could have meant certain death?" I stare at him, his skin already well healed, as if he had never felt the heat of the black flames or the scorched earth below him. He fumbles with his fork, the piece of speared pancake sliding off as it lands in a clatter.

At first, I can't hear his reply, 'cuzurmehmespret.' I poke him in his side, "In English, Makara? I was never so horrified in my life as when you stepped down into the crater." His fist smashes the table with a growl, startling me. "BECAUSE you are my MOTHERFUCKING MATESPIRIT and i'll break the FUCKING NUGBONES of a motherfucker who says otherwise." His spins us both so our knees are flush, a feral look in his eye. His hands writhe in a fitful staccato before settling themselves on my thighs. "I got the know you're up and waiting for the right time for a declaration, baby girl. You want shit to be right, perfect-like. Let me drop some motherfucking knowledge on you, then. Ain't no perfect. Ain't no right time. Been the fucking right time since the stars in your 'verse bloomed. Been right since you walked into the book room. It's been up and motherfucking right since you breathed your first 'love you' in your sleep. I got me some patience, girl, all the time in the world, but right here," he points to his heart, "is where my thoughts of you I'll keep." This conversation has officially lost an engine. Functionality is failing. We have entered a tailspin.

I blink, he is clearly waiting for me to respond. What do I say to such an overture? Honesty and hope wage war for the control of his visage. I don't even know where to begin. How did I earn this type of devotion? Fear ripples over him like a pale ghost. I cover his hands in mine, stumbling over my words like a goofy teenager rather than the snarky broad I am. " Gamzee, I don't even. How?" His throat rumbles with a chortle, his indigo-gold eyes crinkling in the corners. "We do what's motherfucking right, sister. When you feel like you ain't got nothin left to hold on to, and all you gots is fear, you call on me. I'll come running, my near and dear." His hands easily envelop my own, raising them to his lips. I frown, "What about...Kan? And Kar? I thought moirails handled these things?"

He snorts. "Kar is my best bro, and I'll pity the shit out of that motherfucker till end of paradox space comes." He kisses the tip of each finger like they are delicacies from a foreign land. "What we got don't belong in no quadrant. The worlds that those fucked up rules to tell us where, who, and how to put down our lovin are gone. Our gods are dead. Everything we worshiped as motherfucking sacrosanct is done. All that's left to us motherfuckers is what's right, and all that holds us back is our head." He dusts a light kiss on each knuckle before placing my hands on his shoulders. I don't even struggle as he cups his hands under my seat, drawing me into a straddle on his lap. I'm no dewy-eyed anime girl, and I'm not about to give in to some (admittedly awesome) romancing with sparkles and ugguuu pouring from my lips. He regards me with heavy-lidded eyes, smiling crookedly when he sees the glint of stubborn resolve in my own. With impeccable timing, he kisses me quiet before I can so much as squeak out a protest.

Every time I draw away to speak, he recaptures my lip with ease, nibbling pressure making me gasp with unspeakable delight. A finger finds its way in between our lips, pressing on my own. "No snark, lady. My turn." I narrow my eyes, but don't fight when he presses his mouth against mine in tenderness. Fuck me, I'm coming undone under this assault. He makes a quick line of pecks from my trembling lips, up my jaw, to my ear. His smoky voice makes me quake, "Everything that made us what we are now, shit's gone babygirl. No amount of rememberin or cryin will make 'em come back. You got yourself some worries, dread, or tears, you come to me and let that shit unfurl right here in my ears. Want your happy, sad, everything, time ain't something I lack." Oh my god he's rapping. A terrified peal of giggles come unbidden. This is a huge breakthrough for him, psychologically speaking. For me...well...this clown. Just dropped Occam's razor on all of my arguments. I mutter against his gob, "This isn't fair." A wicked grin spreads underneath my words, "Motherfucker, ain't nothing fair in love and war."


	40. Chapter 40

Holy fuck in space. I'm kissing a fairy clown for all I'm worth. Everything in my body hums and sings with electricity, every touch and caress sparking off a fire. My tongue dances a lively samba with his, parrying, weaving and twining in a delicious rhythm, his lips ice on my own red-hot-firecrackers. His chest heaves with panting breaths under my touch, heart beating a frantic two-step under my palm. I can't, can't, get close enough. Every ounce of me shudders and shakes with the need to feel his skin. He gasps when my hands push under his shirt, exploring of their own volition. I feel like I'm palming snow, but it doesn't matter. Not now. His skin contracts and shivers as my fingers dance and slide across his abdomen, trailing down his sides.

He wiggles when I touch the funny ridges I saw all those months ago, breaking the kiss long enough to breathlessly whisper "Tickles." My hands busy themselves tracing the muscles on his back. Fuck that. I'm not doing anything to make him stop this kiss. He sucks my lip into his mouth, gently razing his teeth along the soft skin inside, making me squirm. I lick his teeth, paying special attention to his fangs and gums, earning myself a room-shaking moan. And re-entry of his tongue into my mouth, heated and feral moans escaping his throat. This is insane. A kiss shouldn't feel this good, or be so sexy.

He squeezes my butt, startling me into biting down. Grape explodes in my mouth, sweet, and a little salty? Gripping harder, he draws me flush against his hips, growling deep in his throat. It makes me tingly all over. His lips break contact with mine, finding my neck and nibbling with abandon. Oh jegus...he's going to find, OH GOG. My hips buck a little when he finds the tendon in my neck by the ear. I feel a naughty smile form against my skin, before he licks and plants a kiss on the same place. A whimper escapes my throat as I pant wordless want into his ear.

His nibbles are teasing now, working up and down my neck, across my shoulder. He stops for a split second, turning his face to mine before he strikes, hitting the sweet spot with just enough pressure...OH FUCK SHITADSFASDAFSDF. I come apart in his arms with a wild cry, scratching down his back before I become a shuddering mess. I didn't even know...fuck is that possible? I'm lost in thought, wondering if it's really possible for...that...to happen just from a nibble in the right spot. It takes a few seconds to realize he's gone stock still. Fuck. Well. Not literally.

Did I do something wrong? Oh fuck fuck fuck. What the hell are we doing pawing at each other like wild animals?! I disentangle my hands from his shirt, pulling hesitantly back. I'm afraid to look at his face, and maybe a little ashamed. Mostly of myself. A heated flush starts from the tips of my toes and keeps going until it hits the ends of my hair follicles. I never lose control like that. I really hope he didn't notice. Finally gaining the courage, I look up. Is he...holding his breath? What the hell?

His eyes are dilated, looking more like twin new moons than the indigo oceans I've grown accustomed to. They stare off into the distance, before slowly, eerily, looking down at me. Everything about this moment is wrong, my heart palpitating a bit under his intense gaze. I'm afraid to move, I'm afraid to stay. What the hell did I just do? Did I break him? Not the worst way to die, really, but if I had the choice...His voice is gravel dragged over glass and thrown down a well when he finally recovers it. "Motherfuck!" My sentiments exactly. My brain finally kicks into gear, "Did I do something? Are you..." He shakes his head, letting go of me with care, "Nah, girl, you ain't done nothin. I'm just thinking on stopping, is all." I slide off of his lap into a stand, not really pouting, but very curious. Curiosity kills cats, right? What does it do to teenage girls?

The silence stretches forever, his hands clasping at his knees. He still hasn't taken a breath. I have to know, "Gamzee, is there a particular reason you're not breathing? Should I get Karkat?" He shakes his head again, hair falling into his eyes. He pushes it back with an unsteady hand, looking at me appraisingly. I don't know what he's looking for, but it sure as fuck makes me uncomfortable. When did my internal dialogue get invaded by Gamzee's speech pattern? I take a tentative step back, not wanting to upset him further, but not really wanting to be within reach.

His hand shoots out like lightning, grabbing my own, a pleading look replacing the stare. "Pheromones." Oh gogdamnit. He did know. Fuck my life in every position in the Kama Sutra, violently. If my blush could go deeper, it would. I already feel like melting into the floor. He squeezes my hand, hurrying on. "Didn't mean to scare you none, Rosesis...just, ah. You...yeah...and that's um...it makes me...it's kinda hard to explain..." Clearly. I so don't want to discuss this, ever. He takes a shuddering breath. "Not doing all that good for a motherfucker's impulse control, is all. Didn't want to go fucking up what we been working on." That...actually makes sense. Therapy has cock blocked me. It's so hilarious, I giggle manically, squeezing back. Gog. Why am I acting like an idiot.

Come on, talk sense at the man! "Sorry. I don't often lose control. My apologies, Gamzee." WHAT. That is the worst thing said by anyone, ever. I sound like a robot! I have no idea what I'm doing, and it scares the shit out of me. I feel a tug on my hand, slowly drawing me back to his chair. "Ain't nothing to be sorry for, sister. All that's pure light and miracles, fucking believe on that shit." I can't even look him in the eye. This is so awkward. I want to disappear. I hear an unhappy rumble as a finger tilts my head up to meet indigo orbs. "There you go running off in your pan, girl. Come back to a motherfucker and do some talking. We done nothing wrong," a devious glint enters his eye, "just got a little feral, ain't no big." I close my eyes, frowning in concentration. I can't think when I look at him.

Cool lips brush light kisses on my eyelids, "Common, girlfriend. Talk to a motherfucker. I ain't gonna bite." That makes my eyes snap open in a hurry. He smiles impishly, "Least not right now, anyways." Real funny. I glare at him mockingly, he just laughs and honks my nose. "Really, say something mamacita. My noise maker is getting all raw from alla my nerve jabber. Making a brother wicked anxious over here."

I finally get it together, blowing out a hefty sigh, "Sorry. I'm just, I'm not used to..." I gesture between us weakly, and he finishes my thought, "Getting your loving on for fine motherfucker. I gots the understanding know on that. What all else, baby girl?" Dammit this is hard. Come on, LaLonde. This isn't the time to be a drooling idiot. "I don't mean to 'run away,' as you say. I'm simply not accustomed to the idea of someone being interested in me, romantically. To be honest, the concept of love is still rather foreign to me. As much as I am aware that all of the things that have made me what I am are long dead and gone, habits are hard to break, I suppose."

He sweeps me into a bear hug, situating me sideways onto his lap, "Motherfuck. That's the saddest motherfucking noise I've ever heard, true thing. Ain't never gonna let you feel that shit again." He plants a protective kiss on the top of my head, as if to ward off the darkness that creeps in the corners of my mind. "You and me, we made some promises. I'm all about helping a miracle sister work her shit out. You done plenty of motherfucking miracles for this broke-ass clown." My last shred of resistance gives way. I lean into the hug, making him hum happily. Silent tears stream down my face, inaudible sobs wrack my frame. He rubs my shoulders, his little symphony kicking into overdrive. I finally mourn without guilt.

* * *

Holy nards! Thanks for all the reviews and follows! I'm glad everyone likes how it's going so far! I'll be fiddling with the previous chapters a bit, and then get back to writing the next one. Thanks again!

^Edit^ I'm done fiddling! I have a general idea what's going to happen next, I just have to hammer it out some. Stay tuned!


	41. Chapter 41

It takes minutes, but feels more like hours or days, before the last shuddering sob leaves me. Never once did Gamzee stop rubbing my shoulders or his soothing hum. It's the first time in years I haven't had need to hold back, or second guess myself. It's blissful. My whole body is still sore as the dickens, though. I want to get up, but... This is nice. I'm not breaking up the 'motherfucking good vibes,' as he says, with too much thought. I lean back on his shoulder and sigh, floating absently on the waves of little nonsense songs while he toys with my hair.

Eventually my brain pops it's horrid little head back up from the hole it was hiding in. I realize belatedly I never finished eating breakfast. My ears get hot when I think about how my mouth was erstwhile occupied. And how that occupation stopped. So fucking embarrassed. Oh, what? I haven't second guessed myself into a panic attack yet? Let me get on that. (GOGDAMMIT BRAIN! STFU! I WILL POKE YOU WITH A Q-TIP!)

Let's lay out the facts. I've been weeping openly in the arms of a slightly less crazy clown. Who is more than happy to let me do that...because he...yeah. With whom I just had a wild make-out festival with prior to said tear fest. Talk about vacillating moods! I'm supposed to be the therapist. Doing all of the comforting. All of it. There is so much wrong with my life. Or...right. It's not like we put a name on it, anyhow. What is a matespirit other than a fancy name for girlfriend? I totally don't have commitment issues. Not at all. Whatever.

I feel a nudge on the top of my head, breaking me out of my musings, "You right, Rosesis? Feeling hella warm up here." I roll my eyes. "Of course it's warm. You're a gogdamn icicle." He sniggers, husking in my ear, "Sure thing, miracle sister. Brother's gots to stay cool when he's got something so hot and miraculous all up on his lap." Is he trying to set my skin on fire!?

I laugh and shove at his shoulder. He honks gleefully and beeps my nose. "See? Ain't so bad to let all that shit out. Diving down to all that miraculous sparkle-truth might be motherfucking hard, but damn! Feels good, don't it? Been doing hella lot of miracles for me." His Cheshire smile would make the real item jealous. Asshole. Really cute asshole.

Feet shuffle in the hallway. With a squeak I wobble over to my chair to a serenade of discontented churrs. Chirps? Purrs? I bat my lashes at him coquettishly, "For propriety's sake, Mr. Makara!" He pouts briefly, claiming one of my hands, "Ain't nothing to up and be ashamed about none." Before I can speak a word in explanation, the door to my room shooshes open, and Karkat's grating voice invades our conversation.

"LOOK HERE, CHUCKLEFUCK, SHE'S AWA...?" His voice cuts off with a 'keguk' sound. The hell? Karkat's advance into the room comes to a complete halt, his eyes wide buttons in...shock? Surprise? His brows furrow as he tilts his head and juts his lips in concentration. He inhales deeply, sticking his tongue out like Terezi. He explodes, a shouty Vesuvius. "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! SERIOUSLY. GAMZEE. SHE ALMOST BLOWS UP THE METEOR IN HELLFIRE, AND THIS. THIS IS WHEN YOU THINK IT'S A GOOD IDEA TO MAKE HER YOUR MATESPIRIT. WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOUR ADDLED THINK-PAN YOU NOOK-MUNCHING JACKASS?!" Gamzee's hand goes stiff in my own, a low rumble bubbling at the base of his throat.

"NO. THAT IS NOT A SOUND YOU'RE ALLOWED TO MAKE AT ME, YOU EGREGIOUS MESS. SO HELP ME GOG I WILL PAP YOU INTO OBLIVION." Karkat pulls his hair frenetically as it continues, tinged with voodoo. I squeeze his hand in warning, which makes the spectral chill in the air go away, but not the grumble. Oh come on.

I don't even bother interjecting at this point, buttoning my lip and waiting for Kar's frothy wroth to be over. "GOGDAMMIT YOU BEHEMOUTH ASSHOLE. NO RAGE NOISES. I AM POINTING OUT. AS AN INDISPUTABLE FACT. THIS. YOU. THE MOST DANGEROUS LIVING BEINGS ON THIS HELLHOLE OF A METEOR SHOULD NOT BE MAKING OUT, OR WHATEVER THE FUCK ALL ELSE YOU TWO JUST DID. THE VERY THOUGHT OF YOUR WANDERING FRONDS MAKES THE HORRORTERRORS WRITHE IN PROFOUND AMOUNTS OF PANT SHITTERY, WHILE SPINNING ENDLESSLY IN THE VOID, SPEWING EPHEMERA. THIS IS THE WORST IDEA IN PARADOX SPACE. WAY WORSE THAN ALL OF THE FUCKED UP IDEAS I'VE EVER HAD. EVER." My face settles into it's usual smug mask. Wasn't this his idea?

Wait. How did he know...we were...Oh my gog. Oh. My. Gog. My smirk slides away, replaced by mortified horror. Karkat's rant continues, but I'm not even listening. Panic settles over my brain like an itchy blanket. My eye twitches involuntarily. Every single troll on this meteor is going to know I lost my shit because Gamzee figured out where to nibble. They can fucking **^smell^** it. I need a shower. Five million showers. And a hole in the ground to hide in. And then a shower in that hole. Then a pillow to muffle my unending screams, or to suffocate Karkat with. Whichever comes first.

I didn't even notice Gamzee's hand had left mine until his voice cuts through the miasma of my dismay, "MOTHERFUCKER!" Great. Murder-quirk. No time to wallow in humiliation. I shake the hysterical blindness from my eyes, finding Karkat cowering and Gamzee looming, near the door. "ain't letting you talk SHIT ON MY MIRACLES, palebro. LET ME MAKE THAT SHARP and motherfucking CLEAR." Dammit. Really? So far away? I can't walk over, but maybe, just kinda...float? I test myself, and sure enough, I can. Guess the tea's kicking in. It sure as hell isn't the pancakes.

Landing next to the two of them with a graceless clonk, I shove them apart, hard. "FOR FUCK'S SAKE, LALONDE PICK A QUADRANT. RED OR ASHEN!?" Rude. I stumble, leaning heavily on my honking mountain for support. Giving Kar a hard glare, I spit, "Oh, screw your quadrants! I'm a pink monkey, remember? We're wild barbarians without a formal system of sexuality!" Well. That was the worst retort ever. Gamzee honks a laugh softly as his arms twine around my body like vines searching for sunlight. At least it wasn't a murder-honk.

Karkat scoffs, eyebrows threatening to disappear into his hairline. His lips are working up to a sputtering reply. Freakin' drama queen. I put as much force in my simple words as possible,"Karkat. Shut up." His lips press together in a scowl while I speak. "I get it. You're not happy with my latest Grimdark episode. I'm not particularly thrilled with my loss of control, either."

He grunts, his words hissing out between his lips. "Yes. I am the exact opposite of happy. A burning black sun in the negaverse of unhappiness. You could have killed him, fucking asshole." Aaand that's the real problem. He's the epitome of a haranguing mother-in-law. But I don't have an excuse for my behavior. A lick of shame sidles up my stomach as I break eye contact with his furious grimace. Gamzee's rumble rattles my teeth, "Aww. Palebro! Weren't like she was up and trying to off a motherfucker. What's all that shit you talk at me, saying second chances are all motherfucking bitchtits?" I know that voice. Troll puppy eyes.

Karkat's eyes narrow, umbrage radiating off of him in hot little rays. Gamzee keeps going in a piteous tone, "I know most the motherfuckers here still gots to forgive my ass for...uhm. All I'd up and done. Anyhows, that's way worse than shooting miracles from a ninja's fingers, blowing up the air-like." The droop of his shoulders makes me twist around in his arms, papping his forehead. His smile is small, but it's there.

Karkat closes his eyes, scratching his forehead with a fitful sigh. We wait, watching for a new explosion of vehemence. Hang on there, skipper, We? I just kissed the guy. There's no 'we' yet. If ever. Chill your tatas LaLonde. With a groan/growl through his nose, Karkat finally speaks. "Fine. Fucking fine. You two are the worst examples of matespirits in paradox space. Equius and his smooch-bot were better than you two masterful screwups. Fuck. Sorry."

He peeks up from between his fingers at Gamzee. A rueful chortle wheezes out behind me. "No worries, Karbro. I got you. You just got your worry on like a good palebro. Comm'ere." He pulls a weakly struggling Karkat into a group hug, pressing his and my face uncomfortably close. Gog love his enthusiasm. I quirk an eyebrow up, silently asking for a truce. Karkat rolls his eyes and shrugs as best he can. No-one can avoid or deny the huggy black hole that is Gamzee.

After a few seconds, Karkat pushes at Gamz' arms, "Let go, you shambling shit ape." He acquiesces with a final pat to his moirail's head. While straightening his sweater, Karkat looks me in the eye, asking bluntly, "So. When are you going to make it official? I won't have my moirail prancing about like one of you pink heathens!" He is the worst busy body. What. Official? My body tenses up under Gamzee's touch. Oh hell no. Hell no ten times till Saturday's brother. Chagrin taints Gamzee's whining exhortation, "Aww, Come on, Karbro! I just got her kissing on me!"

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Thanks, Yumi & Oof, my brain decided an extra n was a good idea. Gah. *Twitch* (It's like walking around with your fly down all day and people don't mention it, then you get home and see it and you want to set yourself on fire because that was the day you wore bright pink undies.) Thank the gods for ctrl+F! Fixed!

To Kitty Bandit: (Since I couldn't reply to your lovely review in a PM) Thank you very much! I'm quite glad you enjoyed it! I thought it made the most sense, since a breakdown is nothing to shake a stick at, nor a shouty asshole. Bless his angry, venomous heart. Thanks again!


	42. Chapter 42

Error Log: Blue Screen of Death. Kernel data in-page error. Cannot cycle through normal functions. Cannot reach log-in screen. Cannot process command string "Official." I forget to breathe. A violent tremor passes down my body. A hand waves in front of my stiff and still husk, "Yo, Rosesis? Rooosseee? Helloooooo?" Someone with cold fingers pokes my cheek. "Damn, Karbro, I think you up and broke her pan." Another poke. "GOGDAMMIT LALONDE YOU ARE NOT A SCALY-TAILED TREE MARSUPIAL! STOP PLAYING DEAD!"

I blink, shaking my head to clear it. My heart is still fluttering an untamed tattoo. If it were a strobe light, it would cause seizures. Sweat beads across my forehead and hands, making them clammy. Two sets of eyes regard me with mild alarm. One with alarm/amusement. Bastard. My whole body is still rigid, painfully so. My eye twitch is back harder than a mindless popular song on the radio. Well. That's a panic attack. Haven't had one in awhile. Forgot how not-awesome they were. Remind me to never do it again. Karkat growls, "What the fuck, Lalonde? Did we break you?" he turns an accusing look at Gamzee, " I told you pink monkeys were too fragile, you nook-stain! Look at her! She's a fucking mess!"

Two hands cup my face, tilting my head upwards. Cool lips press down on my forehead, work their way down to my nose, ending at my gnarl of a mouth. His whispered words blow across my skin, "Breathe, my motherfucker. Get your chill on. It's all good in the hood, mamacita." I can't return the kiss yet, but I feel my muscles starting to relax.

"UGH! FUCKING EW. GAMZEE! JUMPING JEGUS ON A SPRINGSTICK! MUST YOU?! IT'S WORSE THAN WALKING IN ON YOUR LUSUS' MATING! COME ON DUDE!" He ignores his 'shouty brother,' peppering my face with feather-light kisses. "Just breathe, sister. It's good. You're good. Motherfucking fine ass motherfucker." This is probably the nicest return to reality from an attack I've ever had. Fuck. This. Emo. Coaster.

Hands and arms transmute themselves from sticks and claws to workable appendages. Shakingly, I reach up to pap Gamz' face. He stops his gentle assault, resting his forehead on mine with a smirk. "See, sister? Motherfucking kisses are bomb-ass awesome mood stoppers. Up and learnt that from you, I did. Reverse psycholology and shit." Adorable. I take a rattling breath before I reply, steadying my words."Thanks." Well, word, anyway. Karkat looks ready to explode.

"ARE YOU QUITE DONE MAKING OUT LIKE HOP-BEASTS IN FRONT OF ME?! I HAVE A MOUTH FULL OF YELL AND QUESTIONS THAT NEED ANSWERING!" Does he ever stop? Deep. Breath. Don't kill Shouty McNubs. With a voice that sounds more like a croak than true sibilance, I ask, "Yes, Karkat? What question do you have for me? Could you please speak without shouting?" I refuse to disconnect my head from Gamzee's. It's chilly and calming. I need calm.

He snorts a vexed sigh. "Yes. I am capable of such speech-sounds. Though it will burn my sensitive protein-chute to do so. What the fresh fuck was that? That thing where you froze up like an antler beast in bright light?" So subtle. I try not to roll my eyes, and fail spectacularly. "It's called a panic attack. Did you forget I just woke up from a coma from exposing my own personal rage boner at the sky? That, combined with a few other things from this morning," Gamzee sniggers, making me tweak his nose, "rather overwhelmed me. Haven't had one in ages. Forgot how fucking awful they were."

He puffs air out between his lips, looking speculative. "Feels like you can't breathe?" I know where this is going. Finally. "Yes, Kar." He scratches his arm, "Like you can't move?" This is so cute. "Yes." He nods absently, mind completely elsewhere. "Huh. How do you usually treat shit like that? Not that  
I've ever had that problem. I see Terezi do it sometimes." Though I'm sorely tempted to call him out, I let it slide. "Usually, breathing exercises to get through it, and St. Johns' Wort and Valerian root to prevent as best as possible. As I said, it's been awhile. It seems I'll be making some capsules up shortly, so I'll make certain to make enough for two, as well as directions for when and how to take them." He mutters a thanks. Yay!

"Question number two: When. Are. You. Making. It. Official?!" As if the first time was a good idea. My arm stiffens up a little. Sensing my worry, Gamzee steps in, "Chill, my grumpus-bro. Ain't no race we in. Motherfuckers got their know on into our sitch. Ain't a thing at all, brother." He sounds a little disappointed, mouth tugging down at the corners. Damn. It. All. I'm practically kicking a mountain of metaphorical puppies. Kar makes to respond, but I cut him off. Maybe it won't be so bad to be, ugh, 'official', "How does one make things official, in troll society? It's not like some strange amalgamation of a marriage ceremony is it?" I really fucking hope not. Not doing that. Nope.

He snorts disdainfully, "Flighty broad. You just tell people, fuckass. It's like changing your quadrant status on Trollbook. Nothing to hyperventilate over, nook-wipe." Oh. Well. That was for nothing, then. I'm an idiot. A flighty, deeply disturbed, idiot. "No ceremony? I don't have to sacrifice a rabbit or jump over a broom?" Karkat gives me a 'seriously?' look, "No, you bulgemunch. You just tell your friends, 'hey, were flushed for each other!' Probably with some dewy kawaii eyes or some shit because you two are retarded like that. Jegus."

Gamzee, sensing victory, chuckles and grins, nudging my head. He's all about the little victories, it seems. Karkat continues his little rant, "You act like we were going to have you chop off your arm and feed it to some mysterious troll god. Where's the trust?" I'm pretty sure I saw a sarcastic smile before he turned away, the little shit. Whew. Nothing serious. Just a 'Hey We're dating!' I bump Gamzee back, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. "That sounds lovely, then, Mr. Vantas." Gamzee's smile could beat out sunshine with ease.

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Before I forget: Thank you, KB and MLEM for your lovely reviews! Enjoy!


	43. Chapter 43

Despite my cheery acquiescence, this has literally been the worst morning ever. I woke up from a coma, got undressed by a guy I had the hots for so I could take a bath, tap-danced all over Kan's feelings like an ass mountain, made out with a giant troll after said ablutions, resulting in...embarrassing...results, got yelled at by a tiny asshole, had a panic attack, and am now going further my wallowing in the hole of shame and chargrin by telling everyone and their gogdamn brother about the fact that I. Am. Flushed. For. Gamzee. Motherfucking. Makara. With a stupid smile on my face that won't go away no matter how many dead puppies I think about. And they are fucking awful.

Don't get me wrong, my knickers are totally in a bind over him. I'm just...so not cool with...official. For so many reasons that have nothing to do with this situation. Just more of my own gogdamn hangups. Hooray. Fucking trolls and their batshit insane rules! Or, really. Fucking Karkat. And HIS batshit insane rules. His guano piles measure in fathoms, if not light years.

But I am not doing that shit with the stonk of my own pheromones giving my indiscretions away, dammit. I shoo Karkat out of the door, and when it finally, finally closes over his scowling face, I turn my attentions to my grinning suitor. Who is literally inches away from me. Smiling a shit-eating grin to end all shit-eating grins. Like he consumed Karkat's obscene mounds of guano and won a fucking contest, whose prize was me. Distracting. Very.

His eyebrows waggle in a pitiful attempt at smarminess, "You're up and cool with us getting our redrom on, then? Motherfucking thank all the fucking miracles in the Void, Rosesis." A less than familiar thrill sets in my bones when his hand finds my face and brings it closer to his. I see the tantalizing pucker of his well used lips as they descend toward mine. If I don't say something, I'm not going to be able to. Gogdammit use your words, woman! I'm no wanton heathen! Well...yeah.

"Gamz." His lips change course, brushing my nose. "Yeah, mamacita?" Deep breath, crazy woman. "Let's not call it 'redrom', as you say. I'm not a troll, you're not a human. It would be foolish to play by the rules of either species." He nips at my nose in thought, furrowing his brow. "Ah...I'm guessing we'll be all listening up motherfucking hard to what all our bloodpushers sing at us? Ain't like I've got the know on what to do."

My own brow matches his in consternation. I lean my forehead on his chin as he kisses the frownies away. "Neither do I. But I can only imagine either of us expecting the other to be cool with cultural differences would lead to trouble." Not to mention I'd be fucking jealous as hell if he busted out his clownshoes dumbass moves on someone else. His hum enters my thoughts, "Yeah. Can't be saying our loving on each other ain't gonna be a little awkward-like. Gots me a mighty hard" gogdammit internal snicker, "belief we'll figure that shit out just fine, though." My greedy mouth finds his for a quick kiss.

Supposedly quick, anyway. His hum picks up a diesel-engine like growl as he pulls me in, like he can't quite get close enough. Know the feeling. In-between light pecks and deeper kisses, I hear him mutter under his breath, "My. Fucking. Rosesis, motherfucking miracles." like a mantra. It makes my heart flutter in uncomfortable ways, but I can handle it. I can't bring myself to answer in kind, but he seems content to have contact and reassurance. Kinda cute. Kinda...hot.

Anyway. It's Gamzee. He's...fuck. Different. My 'bloodpusher' does another flip-flop in my chest. That's a disquieting realization. Fuck. Stop thinking about that bullshit. I will not let those old-ass, grabby-handed, dead assholes ruin a cute as hell moment. I'm the one with trust and intimacy issues, not him. I tamp down unpleasant thoughts for later examination. I'm sure as hell not going to let that shit boil over again, fucking hurt the first time. I pull him in for a fevered kiss, both hands wrapped around his horns. That gets his attention. The breathless words stop, for a time, replaced with chirps and moans. Neat.

We come up for air when we hear a commotion outside my room. I know one voice is Karkat's, but I can't quite hear the other. I push with my Sight into the corridor behind my door, upon which my butt is precariously placed. Oh fuck my hot life in the inner ear. Kan. I can't 'hear' what they are saying, but it looks like Kar is trying to keep her out long enough to give us time to straighten ourselves out. Like I'm ever that lucky. She's already half-pushed the shouty straight jacket out of the way.

I duck under Gamzee's arms, grabbing a hand to haul him to the bathroom. He doesn't offer resistance, questioning in a shy tone,"What the motherfuck is up, Rosesis? Can't say I mind all using your ablution trap and all, but, ah, I usually, do it alone? Less Karbro is giving me a hardcore epic papdown?" Wow. Totally don't have time to process that level of weird. It's probably too late already. Ew. Naked Karkles. Just. Ew. Bluh.

I start to swing the door shut as the door shooshes open, allowing entrance to the tangled bodies of Kanaya and Karkat, who seem to be having a very spirited shoving match. I yell "Sorry! Please don't follow me!" into the room and slam the door behind me. Gamzee looks so flustered and confused I let out a peal of nervous laughter, grinning like an idiot. Oh wow. I probably look like a predatory pervo right now, grinning and cackling like a super-villian. Speak, LaLonde!

I catch my breath and look at him apologetically, "Sorry, I just...^wheeze^ I wanted to get us washed up so we wouldn't stink like pheromones. Or at least I hope that's a thing we can do, so you know...um..." I look pleadingly in his direction, willing him to not make me say it. His face settles back into a slightly naughty, lazy grin, "So's not everybody on the ship gets the down low on all of a motherfucker's activities?" His look and drawl make my skin prickle in a pleasant way, but I ignore it. "Yes. That was the plan, anyway. Is that possible?" A crooked smile is my only answer as the two tusslers on the other side of my door continue their rampage in my room.

"He Is Being LEWD!" I can literally feel his eye roll, "FOR THE LOVE OF ALL FUCKS IN PARADOX SPACE, MARYAM, THEY JUST WENT INTO THE ABLUTION TRAP ^TOGETHER^. SHE FUCKING PULLED HIS CLOWN-ASS IN THERE. IT MAKES MY PROTEIN-CHUTE CHAFE IN DISGUST. PLEASE DO NOT OPEN THAT FUCKING DOOR AND FORCE MY SEE-ORBS TO WITNESS WHATEVER CHUCKLEFUCKERY THEY ARE DOING IN THERE. I HAVE SEEN ENOUGH OF THEIR BRAZEN ADVANCES TO LAST ME A LIFETIME. FUCK. NO. ALL OF MY LIFETIMES. EVEN MY DOOMED SELVES WERE SICK OF IT." I hear her clipped footsteps stop outside the door. Kan's primly pressed lips mute some of her words, "What exactly...noise noise...that mean?" The sounds of their argument quiet and move further into the bedroom. At least my gambit worked, even though I doubt it looks good from the other side. Shit. So much for avoiding rumors.

Gamzee crooks a finger, signaling me to come closer, making me squint dubiously. Closer might not help our situation of others not 'knowing our activities.' Leaning back against a wall, I arch an eyebrow. "You still haven't answered my question, Mr. Makara. I am not overly fond of waiting." If it is at all possible, his smile slides into something that very clearly would have been illegal in most of the southern states of my former planet. "Motherfuck, Rosesis. All formal and shit." He slinks forward, if that is a thing a clumsy clown can do.

"Ain't a thing. Most us troll motherfuckers gots us a good set of smell sponges, we do. Hard to cover shit up, like. Shower might get most of it," He stops in front of me, eyes mildly predatory, "But some like Terecita's gonna up and smell it anyhows." If I was capable of becoming one with the floor and wall simultaneously, I would. This really is the best/worst morning ever. Cool hands settle on my hips like they belong there. Proprietary motherfucker! I roll my head back with a thunk, glaring a little, "What is your recommendation for our predicament, then?" His salacious grin threatens to split his face in two as he leans in closer, the gravel in his voice making me shiver, "Make it worse."

And we do. I am a flying idiot, who cannot say no to a sexy clown. Because I ^^really^^ don't want to. Damn him. Right in his shame globes. The fuck are those, anyhow. Seriously.

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Note: Thanks to Maria, Yumi, Kitty-bandit, and KSV for awesome reviews, and thanks for all of the likes and follows! Have a good night, all!


	44. Chapter 44

"WHAT THE NOOK-CHAFING FUCK IS GOING ON IN THERE?! IF YOU TWO COULD PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF OUR DEAD TROLL JEGUS, KINDLY UNTANGLE FROM ONE ANOTHER'S FRONDS! OR WHATEVER THE HELL ELSE YOU STAR MONKEYS HAVE, AND GET THE FUCK OUT HERE SO I CAN FINALLY END THIS BATTLE ROYALE WITH KANAYA, I WOULD GREATLY GOGDAMN APPRECIATE IT! I REFUSE TO BE WRESTLED TO THE FLOOR LIKE SOME WRIGGLER BY A SNARLING, SPARKLE-INFUSED DAYWALKER, EVEN PLATONICALLY!" His protestations are cut short with a thud, "Really, Karkat? So I Have Not Watched Your Ganderbulbs, On Multiple Occasions, Even, Take A Bit Too Long To Look Away?! I Am Well Aware Of The Entertaining Quality of My Frozen Milk Beverages!" Another thud, and a squawk. "GOGDAMMIT LALONDE! GET YOUR PINK MONKEY ASS OUT HERE!"

We had been kissing for a few minutes, but eventually the entertainment value of listening to Kan and Kar argue and wrestle became too much. I'm curled on Gamzee's lap, breathless from the deep belly laughs that leave a bit of aching. Honks and giggles explode above me, "Motherfuck, Rosesis! Brother's getting all salty with Kancita! She's like to get all blackrom on my palebro, and I'm near certain-like that would just be a motherfucking bite in the ass!" Oh my god. Puns. Why now? I'm crying I'm laughing so hard.

Cool hands brush away my tears, "Fuck, Rosesis? You all upset about a little blackrom? Sorry! Didn't mean to make your water-ducts all up and get rowdy!" What? Oh, right, tears. Trust me, skippy, blackrom isn't a foreign concept. Not thinking about that. Nope. Coughing out a final giggle, I finally look up at the clown. His brows are beetled with worry. Fuck it all, it makes me laugh harder. His hands flutter over my tearing face helplessly while he mumbles apologies. Come on, woman, control yourself. Gasping for air I finally attempt to ease his worry, "G...gamz. I'm fine. It's a human response thing. If we laugh too hard, our brains decide it's a good idea to cry. If I remember correctly, it's an extra burst of endorphins to make the body and mind feel, ah, happy."

Incomprehension floats above me with a grin. "Ain't knowing what an endoorfeen is," Aww. "but if it's your pan telling you to get yourself some extra motherfucking happy, then shit, cry all the time, girl!" I cannot stifle an ironic eye-roll. "Dude. Telling a chick you're...uh...with...to cry all the time is not cool." He beeps my nose, unapologetic. "Guessin' I ain't cool then. Better happy than sad, anyhows." His fingers absently stroke a trail of tears away, "That true, though? Bout them endoorfeens?" His face takes a turn, saddening a bit. "Shit, losing more miracles everyday-like." Papping his forehead I retort, "Yes. Tears do make you feel better." His shoulders slump, "However, that does not make them any less miraculous."

A ghost of hope crosses his face. Really? Believing in miracles this hard makes him happy? My psychologist always said to focus on the little things...Sure. Why not. Can't hurt. "Just because one understands how something works, does not explain why." A little smile toys at the end of his lips, "Whatcha got your meaning on, then?" Was that English? Gah. "What I mean, Gamzee," I reach up to twiddle with his hair (it's sooo fluffy!) "Is that knowing how an action occurs does not necessarily tell us why it does. We know, for example, the sky is blue, because water molecules in the atmosphere are capable of filtering out most colors except that particular hue. Despite the science, we still do not know why that occurs. What prompts the molecules to be able to do that? We know how a leaf changes color for the winter in order to survive, but, as you say, we do not know why 'it all up and learnt to do that' other than 'it does.' That's where the miracles fit in." I finish while I work out a kink in a hank of hair closest to my face. His silence drags on for a bit, making me stop my ministrations long enough to chance a glance upwards.

Gamzee's smile is ridiculously saccharine. Grabbing me by the shoulders, he crushes me into a hug, kissing every inch of my face his lips can reach. I see a tear. Several, actually. They're a lovely shade of lavender. He really does choose the weirdest times to have psychological breakthroughs. Yeah. Like treating a clown-alien in ^space^ isn't weird. Not at all. I can barely make out what he's saying, "Motherfuck, motherfucking miracles up in fucking here, Rosesis! Ain't been believing lately, and you all drop this wicked motherfucking bomb all up in my lap! Gogdamn, sister!" His lipped assault stops as he hugs me harder, using an excited toddler's whisper, "You be giving a motherfucker all that wild belief noise, shit. Makes a brother all...fucking happy." Gogdammit. Now I'm crying too. This is stupid. He keeps muttering thanks and praise in my ear like it's going out of fashion. It's embarrassing. But it's him. If that's what it takes to keep him going, then why the hell not. The world by Gamzee Makara: MiRaClEs.

Our sob-fest is promptly interrupted by the cage-match that bursts through my door. Seriously. I'm about to give up and replace it with a beaded curtain. Karkat and Kanaya snarl and shove at each other, looking equally concerned for their moirails and insanely angry at their adversary. Maybe Gamzee is correct. I hope Karkat's tush is ready for a good biting. Ew. Totally don't want to think about that, ever. Worse than dead puppies. Kan shoves Karkat successfully away, dropping to her knees in front of us, eyes full of anxiety over the state of my teary face, "Rose? Are You Quite All right? Has He Done Something To Cause You Harm?" She spares a venomous gaze at Gamzee, "Has He Been...Untoward?" Gog. If anything I'm the one who's been untoward. "Hardly, Kan." Not like she needs to know that. Nudging Gamzee with a smile and arched eyebrow, I ask silently to go put a calming influence over Kan's over-excited glowing tatas. A gentle push forward and a kiss on the ear gives me the answer I need.

I stand with her assistance, and guide her out of the room. Karkat to grumbles discontent at his moirail while he informs him of the new state of his 'motherfucking miracles'. Taking a deep breath, she stops me on our circuit to my bed, looking me over with an exacting clinical glare. "So. It has been decided then? I cannot say I am particularly pleased about the events of this morning." Decided? Fuck. I still need to apologize to her about, yeah. That. I push my hair behind my ear nervously. "About, that. Kan. I did not mean to offend you when I awoke this morning..." She sniffs imperiously, "I understand that, Rose. You are still unused to the benefits of having a moirail. It is not that of which I spoke." What the hell else could she be unhappy about? "Then what upsets you, Kan?" She guides me the last few steps until we are sitting on the edge of my bed. "What I am unhappy about is." She closes her eyes before she blurts out the source of her discontentment, "I feel that he is taking advantage of your weakened emotional state, and that you are still too fragile to pursue a relationship with anyone at this particular time." Red alert. Bomb Countdown. Owuoooogah.

A twitch works its way back to my eye. Gogdammit I just got rid of that. Be rational. Don't say anything hurtful. "What right do you have to say such a thing to me? I do not remember asking for your opinion on the subject!" Right then. Rational is on vacation. Oh my gog why did I sayyyyy that? Her hurt is clear through her words, "You did not. But I feel compelled to say it anyway. It is my job to question your choices in quadrant partners, to ensure your happiness." Okay, play it cool. Don't be a jackass. She has a point. A seam of irritation works its way into my words, "I understand your concern, Kanaya, but I do not think it is valid." Her shoulders stiffen. Fuck I said something wrong. Fuuuuuck. "You do not value my opinion, then? I will not have my duties to you taken lightly!" Her eyes flash fire as she glares over her shoulder at me. GOG I AM SUCH A FUCKUP! "I never said that, Kanaya! Please understand, this has been a long time coming." (heh. Coming.) Kan's eyes narrow in doubt, but she doesn't speak. I continue, "Ever since I agreed to assist in his recovery, there has always been something a bit...more, to our interactions. Unwilling as I had been to admit it at first. Something about his nature just, beckoned to me, I guess." Probably the part where he's just as screwed up as I am. No. that's not true. He totally gets second prize on the fucked-up-o-meter. No fuzzy giant stuffed animal, just a crappy blow-up bat. Everyone can go home, LaLonde wins all the events in the Crazy Carnival. All of them. Five-eyed goldfish and everything.

Her dismay does not dissipate. "Even so. I do not care for the speed in which this relationship is blooming. I did not think of you as one who would so quickly jump to the concupiscent couch!" Um, what? "It is most unseemly, and I must stress that which burns bright burns quickly." Oh my gog there is so much wrong with this entire conversation. So. Much. GAARERADFASDFASDF. Come on, LaLonde, this is what moirails do. Talk about the hinky stuff. I would much rather jam my knitting needles into my eyesockets.

I turn her so she's facing me, mostly so she can see my confuzzled expression. "So quickly? That's hardly a fair assessment." I'm so not talking about her hints of lewdness yet. She leans back against my bedpost with a huff, "I refuse to count your human therapeutic sessions as courtship. It is not proper." I really want to laugh. Fussy fangs. My smile turns mocking, "What would you consider proper, then? Nothing about this situation is by any means normal." She grouses, "A PROPER matespiritship is composed of romantic gestures made over sweeps, with a good deal of pining and want! And Distance! Lots of Distance! Not to mention a meeting of the moirails to discuss complications! Not once has our stub-nubbed compatriot approached me for negotiation!" OMG I was right! He is my mother in law!Her scandalized outrage is almost too funny to bear. Negotiation?

"Do tell, Kanaya, what negotiations? I don't remember that particular piece of information in Karkat's numerous rants about troll romance." She looks down with a jade blush blooming up to her ears. "The meeting is to determine compatibility, so each can give permission." Like I would need it. "It is also to compare quadrants, to see if members of your clade would be suitable..." Her blush deepens, "for other pairings." Hmm. Pairings. Match maker, match maker...Hang on a hot second! "Kan? You're not saying, um." How do I say this? I can't really see the compatibility, myself. But Cancers and Virgos go well together...She looks up quickly, seeing the disbelief laid clear in my features, "Oh, Gogs, No! No! I Am Not Flushed For Karkat! Gog! Just. No!" Aww. Poor lil' fella! Remembering he is just a few feet away, I motion for her to speak a bit more discreetly, her next words a hiss, "He Would Be Insufferable! If Anything, I Would Be Interested In Blackrom With Gamzee." The tires on my mental bus cease to go round and round.

I try my best to keep my features neutral. This is troll romance. This is how they roll. Be reasonable. Logic doesn't stop my seething resentment. She is my friend. Friends do not do that. See?! This is why troll and human romance doesn't mesh. I fight for control over my temper while teasing out a thread from my bed cover. Deep breath. Keep your cool. My voice is higher than it should be. "I do not believe black romance would be a terribly good idea at this time. He is still moderately unstable, and I fear any emotional upheaval that seems common in blackrom would be detrimental to his emotional state." Yeah. Totally blame it on that. Not the jealousy. Not the fact that I want to see him squirming and tied... uhm. Yeah. A tinge of red dusts my cheekbones. She definitely doesn't look like she's buying it. "Truly? It has nothing to do with your strange human ideals when it comes to romance? I sense you are being disingenuous." Wow. Nothing like smacking a hornet's nest. Super fun. Fussy fangs for the win in making me moderately annoyed.

She moves closer, ostensibly to pap the frown developing on my face. Trolls really don't hold back, do they? I catch her wrist, placing it down on the mattress between us. Her answering chastisement in chitters does nothing to alleviate my annoyance. "Please. Stop for a moment, would you?" She falls silent, eying me with distrust. "I do not mean to offend. You are moderately correct in your assessment. Please remember that I also have my own ideas when it comes to romance. I admit that accepting moiralligeiance with you made it seem as if I was cool with all of this quadrant fuckery, but I'm not. Not entirely. The very idea that you would," I pause long enough to arrange my thought, gogdamn stupid fucking trolls having to know everydamnthing, "be interested in him makes me feel...dolorous." Her other hand has found its way into my hair. Leaning away, I opt to brace myself against the opposite bedpost.

Like I'm every lucky enough for a troll to take a hint. She moves closer, a thrumming coo vibrating her frame as she strokes and pets my arms and shoulders. Hunching away just wins me pats on the back. Just. Augh. I relent, letting her console away. I'm loath to admit it's quite nice. Her arms encircle my waist as she nuzzles the hair near my ear, "Rose! What kind of a moirail do you think I am?! I would never, ever, do something of that kind without your consent. If it twinges your bloodpusher with discontent, then it shall not happen. I am sorry for my eagerness for things to go properly! I just never..." GAAAAHHHH stupid feelings. I finish for her. "Never had the opportunity on Alternia?" She nods into my hair. "Okay. I get it. You want something normal in your life. Understood." Internal siiiiggggghhhh. She continues in a low mutter, "It probably wouldn't have worked with him anyway. I fear my pitch tendencies would be too volatile." Yeah so are my bitch tendencies. "It doesn't make me any more comfortable with the idea. Humans are quite different when it comes to these issues. We practice monogamy." Well. Most of us do. There are those weird t.v. shows...and Utah.

She leans back, giving me a querulous face. "Monogamy? You mean the mammalian practice of ha...vi..ng..." She trails off when she realizes what she's saying, mouth turned down in chagrin. I decide to save her from herself, "One mate? Yes. That would be what I was talking about. I am very much a warm-blooded space mammal." Gog this conversation keeps getting stranger. She studiously traces the pattern on my bed sheet with her finger, probably willing away her faux pas. "Anyway . I do not think it would be a good time for any sort of quadrant shenanigans. We've just agreed to do...what ever it is we are doing." Matespirit, boyfriend, whatevs. "Let us find our way first." She stops tracing, visage still tinged with overwrought tension. "Very well." A slow grin replaces her worry . "So...about the concupiscent couch-jumping?" Gogdamn my life into the billionth circle of obscene tentacle hell. I launch into the most G-rated version of this morning's events that I can. Once I'm done, she pokes the tendon behind my ear tentatively. I bat her hand away with an irate grumble. "My, My, Miss LaLonde! Touchy, aren't we?" Oh fuck you. So hard.

* * *

Thanks to Maria & Kitty-bandit! Your wonderful reviews are always a delight to read!

To KB: FYI: Sollux chose to stay behind with Aradia the green sun instead of joining them on the meteor to the next bubble.


	45. Chapter 45

After a lengthy feelings jam that felt suspiciously full of snarky broad oneupmanship, (some habits are hard to break) I realize that morning has most certainly rolled into late afternoon. Not that one can really tell time in a sunless meteor, but the digital clock by my bed sure as hell can. It reads, in those awful blaring stark red digital numbers, 4:30. Not particularly significant, but I'm tired of talking around my emotions, and I an only imagine Karkat and Gamzee are tired of hanging out in my bathroom like creepers. Kan has followed my lead, slumping into a contented silence after literally forcing out every ounce of feels I had. It's a damn pain in the ass to keep her away from the dark places, bless her phosphorescent heart. She makes herself comfortable on my frilly duvet, muttering something about how the lace was just "horrifying" and she may need to "correct" this problem. I leave her to her musings, turning my gaze to Gamzee and Kar in the bathroom.

OMFG. That is adorable. Karkat is out like a light, curled up in a little ball in Gamzee's lap. His fingers, still adorned with nail polish, tangle themselves into Gamzee's shirt, as if to reassure himself his friend is still there. His dandelion hair is being messily carded in bizarre designs by the heavy-lidded clown. A light purr escapes his lips. Gamzee's face is as smooth as an ocean on a fair day, the only ripple a contented smile. If there was ever a 'desu' moment, just. Gah. ^nosebleed from cute.^ I can't tear my eyes away from their kawaii voodoo. The blinding whiteness of my bathroom has nothing on the sparkly diamonds and rainbows emanating from these two. Unbidden, Gamz looks up at me. How the hell do people, er, trolls know when you are looking at them? A goofy grin breaks over his face as he shrugs, as if to say, "Moirails, right?" I smirk and shake my head in response when I hear Kanaya snoring like a chainsaw behind me.

I pull the beanbags out of my sylladex and plop them down in a pile at the end of my bed, the light burn of ozone tickling my nose as the deck closes again. There's no point in fighting it. A wild moirail naptime party has broken out unchecked in my bedroom. If only my stuffy mother could see me now. She'd like to have a coronary. Catching Gamzee's eye, I point to the pile, inviting him and his sleepy buddy over. He gathers Karkat into his arms gently, tiptoeing over to the pile and putting him down like he was a clutch of newly laid eggs. Kan stirs in her sleep, a "snrrkhrm" coming from her lips, but moves no further. I really hope that isn't drool...handkerchief, I need a hankie. I pull one out of my sylladex, bend over Kan's prone form, and wipe down the offending fluid with care. Uh, this is a thing moirails did, right? Sure. Yea.

Gamzee rustles and settles into the chairs, letting out a happy sound. That better be because he's comfortable. I glance over my shoulder, and the hum is not, in fact, because he finds beanbags particularly luxurious. He bounces his brows up and down with a low whistle and lazy grin. I want to be mad at him, but I just snort and give him the bird with a wry smile, wiggling my aforementioned superior posterior. I slide off the bed and stand, grabbing the T.V. remote from my night table. A hoarse stage whisper comes from behind, "Rezi up and taught me what all that beautiful finger language got it's meaning on. Be glad to oblige a sister, motherfucking truth from me to you, Rosesis." Wow. Uh.

I struggle to keep the full body blush, and other responses, in check before I turn around. Putting as much sass behind my words as I can, I whisper viciously back, "Dream on, clown boy. Not anytime soon." Not opening that can of worms yet. There are...things...he needs to know about first. If I can ever work up the courage to talk about it. Maybe the meteor will crash first. I plop down next to him as he gives me a smoldering look. "Ain't a right out no, brother's got a notice on." Duh. I roll my eyes and mutter into his shoulder as the beginning credits for Harry Potter come on screen, "I'd have to be blind and deficient to not to be attracted to you, Mr. Makara." He giggles out an aww and ruffles my hair before squeezing me firmly to his side. Nap time is awesome.

I'm loath to admit I'm in love with this series. Wizards, and wizardry, have always been a tense subject in the LaLonde household, but I'm willing to let bygones be bygones. That Weasley kid is cute, anyhow. Always loved a redhead. It's kind of odd to be snuggled up to Gamzee with Karkat ^right there^, but then again, everything is strange about us. It's not really something to worry about at this point. I snicker internally at how much Gamz must look like he is ^drowning in ladies^ from an objective point of view. Three people in the same room, all interested in him. Thankfully Kanaya said she would abstain from his bulge. Ew. Such an awful name. I'm going to have to become more creative. Excalibur, or ham-steak, perky gerbil, or just, something less gross.

Hagrid lumbers onscreen for the upteenth time in the forty or so minutes we've been watching the film, and my eyes begin to prick with the cottony want of sleep. My head droops further into the curve of Gamzee's neck, listening to the lilt of his throaty music as he follows along with the background score. He drops his cheek heavily to the top of my head, rubbing it in my hair with a purr. What? Do I feel like a velveteen bunny or something? "MhMhmmm. How's a fine motherfucker like yourself smell so damn good?" He inhales deeply, savoring the flavor, I guess. Honestly, I have no idea what to say to that kind of compliment. My brow wrinkles a bit. Smell isn't really something I've become attuned to. "Frequent showers? Not really something I think about, Gamz."

His chuckle makes my head rattle. It tickles, actually. Gamzee just tickled my brain. Ha. I snicker against his collarbone. "You're fucking bizarre, clown." His tone becomes husky the moment my breath skims across his neck. Ah. Oops. I turn my head to face the screen resolutely. I. Am. Not. Kissing. Him. With. Both. Kan. And Kar. In. The. Room. "Nah. Just appreciating the miracles, sister." He inhales again as his hand slides down my arm, his nails dragging ever so lightly over the thin fabric. Honestly, Kan. It's like nothing is there at all. What the heck did you have in mind when you put this out for me?! It sends shivers right to...there. Damn him to hell. He's good at this. I do my best to ignore it and re-immerse myself in the joy that is Potter. He seems unperturbed, reaching the end of my arm and drawing the pad of his thumb across my knuckles, kneading the meat of my palm with his clever fingers. I'm so not paying attention to the movie now.

My skin is alive with electricity, buzzing with his every feather light-touch. He traces patterns up and down my arm, raising goosebumps in his wake. I am not acknowledging this tomfoolery. Directly, anyway. I keep my eyes glued to the screen. He skates over my shoulder, circling and dipping into the hollow where neck and shoulder meet lazily. It's driving me insane. I refuse to give in, or make noise. An amused purr burbles into my ear, "Damn, chica. Got you a stubborn streak a mile wide." I squirm under his touch involuntarily as he brushes his fingertips behind my ear. His purr transmutes to a satisfied growl, "That's" PAP! "Ow. Better." In his sleep, Karkat senses Gamzee's growl and paps him reflexively. I bury my head in Gamzee's chest to muffle my laughter. He snorts into my hair, "Guessin I should be on my motherfucking best behavior, then?" I nod, too breathless to respond. LOL. Pap-blocked. Good moirail. Best day.

* * *

Note: Thanks Yumi! Always a pleasure to hear from you! =)

Thanks to Llamanexusistool, I laughed when I read the end of your review. Thanks for the support!

Thanks to Kitty-Bandit: D'aww! Don't be falling off of inanimate objects and hurting yourself, now! I really do try to keep things in balance, so thanks for noticing!


	46. Chapter 46

Our 'coming out' to the others (Dave, Terezi...and the Mayor? Does he count?) wasn't all that difficult. Apparently everyone else on the meteor knew we were going out before I did. Something Gamzee said or did during my comatose stupor seemed to have impressed that on all parties. I don't bother asking. Dave doesn't seem all that thrilled, but his comments on 'tentabulge' are kept to a minimum by Terezi's continual cane drubbings. He's a little more standoffish than usual, but I write that up to awkward semi-protective brother-feels. Though the looks he gives Gamz and I...maybe not. Hm. I'll file that away for later. Gamzee and I fall into a comfortable rhythm, 'seeing' each other on the days I'm not treating him, doing things that I imagine are pretty par for course for relationships. Make out, play video games, read or make up stories to/for each other, attempt to tame his wild mane. The last is truly an attempt at futility. I don't think anything but combs made of titanium would survive his hair. After a few months, we are able to dial his sessions back to twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays. To quote him, he is "pleased as a motherfucker can be to be spending quality motherfucking prime-time" with me on the days I'm not pulling apart his brain.

He goes to leave after another soul-searching session, but not before planting a searing hot kiss on my lips. I scowl under his persistence, batting away his wandering hands until he relents. Therapy days are NOT make out days. He likes to pretend he forgets that rule. With a sigh and a rueful grin, he pulls back, regarding me with his ever-present half-lidded bedroom eyes. I'm glad I'm sitting on a stool and not the beanbags, or I would have been pinned beneath him (not a horrible way to spend a day, mind) and less likely to resist. "I'ma break down that stubborn in you someday, Rosesis. Just you up and wait." I give him the stink-eye and shoo him out of the room. "I'm sure. Now scoot!" With a wink and double pistol, he's gone. Phew. That stubbornness is there for a reason, thankyouverymuch.

It was an unspoken rule between us that we would mutually visit our moirails after therapy. Not that we needed an excuse to. For me, it was more like a personal therapy session, to avoid further Grimdark. For him, well. As far as I could tell in the ranting pester chum logs from his moirail, more to moon over me and irritate Karkat. At least that's what he says. I think he's secretly glad Gamz is happy and stable. (Stable..er?) I go to the library, but Kan is no-where to be found. I check the kitchen, the airlock, and still. No Kanaya. I try her room, but the door is locked. Hm. Now that I think about it, most of the trolls have avoided me like the plague the last few days, or accosted me with uncharacteristic cuddles. Karkat went running in the other direction when I rounded a corner, Terezi grabbed Dave by the collar of his shirt and dragged him into an empty room. Kanaya wrapped herself around me like a morning glory climbing a trellis yesterday, sniffing and purring. Gamz..was a little more insistent with his kissing...hmm. The situation feels familiar. I wend my way back to the library, trying to tease the answer from my mind.

Flopping down on the couch, I take out my husktop with a flick of my fingers. With a near inaudible pop and hiss, it lands on my lap. Ow. OWOWOWOW. FUCK. Ow. A pain in my abdomen erupts, but not from the computer. Groaning and rubbing over the ouchie, I open the pc and check the calendar. Ah. 14 more days on the nose till the red tide arrives. Hooray I just laid an egg in my own body. Joy. The very height of my fertility cycle. I shall jig with mirth. Yay. So glad this happened after our entrance to Sburb. Otherwise I may have been treated to a first menses party. I imagine it and shudder involuntarily. All my old relatives poking me knowingly, like I've been initiated into a hedonistic cult. Vagina-shaped cake. Garish red streamers, tampon giftbags. She would pull out all the stops in our war of passive aggression. Clowns and condom balloons...everywhere. Bluh.

Clowns. I have a very amorous clown. The gears in my head whirr and click into place. Oh fuck me. Really?! Is there anything they can't smell? There are no secrets on this damn meteor from hell. Should I go into fucking purdah?! I moan and rub my forehead, spreading my fingers until they hit my temples. No fucking wonder the trolls have been so damn schizophrenic. Bah. Deal with it head on. Mumbling obscenities under my breath, I open pesterchum to bother Kan.

**TentacleTherapist has begun pestering GrimAuxillitrix**

TT: Kanaya.

TT: I understand why you've been avoiding me today.

TT: KAAAANNNNN

GA: Oh, Hello Rose.

GA: I Do Not Know Whatever It Is That You Are Talking About.

TT: I think you do.

GA: I Certainly Do Not!

TT: Really? Would you be so kind as to join me in the library, then?

GA: I Would Love To...But I have, Um, Things...To Do.

TT: Clearly. Would any of those things have something to do with avoiding memory of your enthusiastic hugging yesterday?

GA: I Was Perfectly In The Right To Hug You. It Is What Moirails Do For One Another, As Comfort.

TT: Is that so? So the deep inhalations and purring, that's normal?

GA: …

GA: No. I Fear I Am Going Mad, Or Nearing Maturation.

TT: Mad? Why?

GA: I Have, On Multiple Occasions, Smelt Mating Pheromones On You, When You Are Clearly In A Concupiscent Relationship With Another. It Has Been Said On Alternia She Who Smelt It Dealt It. I Fear That I Am Going Red For You, And I Do Not Wish To Interfere In Your Relationship With Gamzee.

I blurt out a laugh before I have time to control myself. It's adorable how un-ironically she said that.

TT: Down, girl. You're not losing your mind.

GA: I Am Not? How Could That Be? Alternians Come Into Heat Only Once A Sweep After A Certain Age, Is That Not The Same For Humans?

Yay. Awkward convo time. So. Awesome.

TT: Hardly. Our, ah, cycles, are monthly. Humans can more or less reproduce at any time, with the exception of a few days a month.

GA: Fascinating! So Even The Very Young Are Capable Of Reproduction?

Facepalm.

TT: No, no. The general maturation rate for human females is between 12-16 years of age. Or, um, 6 to 8 sweeps? Is this similar to Alternian females?

GA: Oh, We Usually Mature At 8 Or 9 Sweeps. Some Go Through It Earlier. Our Males And Females Mature Sexually At The Same Time, As Both Are Capable Of Producing Genetic Material For The Mother Grub.

Really don't want an alien health class, but males and females?

TT: ...Okay. Do you mean to say that your species are...um...

GA: Equipped With A Nook And Bulge? Yes.

Well. That escalated quickly.

TT: Oh. When I spoke to Terezi, she said that human and troll anatomy were similar.

GA: I Do Not Know About That. Though I Would Be Loath To Take Advice From Terezi, Who Is In Turn Being Informed By Dave. He Is A Habitual Exaggerator.

TT: Good point.

TT: …

GA: I Am Sorry! Have I Offended You?

TT: No, not at all. I'm just, surprised, I suppose.

GA: About What, Exactly?

TT: …

TT: Nothing. Anyway. So. Yes. I shall send you a calendar so you won't be surprised next time by my enticing scent.

**TentacleTherapist has sent GrimAuxillatrix the file calendar!**

**GrimAuxillatrix has received file calendar!**

GA: Thank you! Wow. 26 Cycles A Sweep. How Does Your Society Function If Everyone Is Continually Mating? Is It Not Exhausting? And Terrifying?

TT: Okay. You have to be joking now. We do not 'continually mate.' That would be absurd.

GA: You Are Not Compelled To Do So?

TT: You mean like the drones of your home planet?

GA: Exactly.

TT: I know you understand mammalian mating. You had mammals on Alternia.

GA: Yes, But As A Higher-Level Species, Are There Not Laws Regarding Reproduction?

I'm suddenly glad we are not having this conversation face to face. I don't think I've been able to stop giggling for the last ten minutes. How do I explain?

TT: Yes and no. Most laws about reproduction have to do with contraception. Don't worry about that. We are not compelled to reproduce, regardless. We choose if and when we wish to engage in concupiscent activities, and it's not always in regards to producing children.

GA: …

TT: What?

GA: You Choose When? And It's Not Always For The Production Of Grubs?

TT: Uh, yes?

Ew. Grubs. No point in correcting her. She doesn't answer for a few minutes.

**GrimAuxillitrix is idle!**

GA: Pardon. I Needed A Moment.

TT: For? Forgive me, I don't quite understand.

GA: It...Is Strange To Think Of You Capable Of Doing...Such Things. At Will.

TT: Is this upsetting you?

GA: A Bit.

TT: I would apologize, but it's natural for my species. Just as it is for yours to be hermaphroditic. I would think, as a rule, different species on different planets tend to evolve social-cultural habits in quite divergent and interesting ways. Therefore it should not be viewed with horror, but rather the lens of multicultural understanding.

Even though I'm totes freaked out that Gamz might have lady bits. Or a tentabulge, after all.

GA: Perhaps.

GA: Have You Participated In Concupiscent Activities Before?

TT: No. When we left to enter Sburb, I was only 13. I do not consider it proper for one so young to do so.

TT: Generally, even though we mature early, many of us wait until we are a bit older to begin experimentation with sex and sexuality. Primarily because it is socially frowned on, and studies in neuroscience have proved that the brain has not completely finished development until we are ten sweeps. So to put it simply, sex + hormones + under-developed emotional response = bad times.

Choo, Choo! All aboard the sex talk train! Payback for telling me my boyfriend has a vagina!

GA: Oh.

GA: Does This Mean You Will Not, Um. Be Active With Gamzee?

( * - 0 )

TT: …

TT: I have not decided. Please don't pry.

GA: Sorry!

TT: It's fine. We'll put this under an interest for science.

GA: Yes. Science.

GA: I Should Warn You, However.

TT: About?

GA: Cool-Blooded Trolls, Such As Our Fallen Comrades Feferi And Eridian, As Well As Gamzee, Tend To...

TT: To?

GA: Be Early Bloomers. I Suppose It Is A Way Of Making A Larger Ruling Class, A Survival Tactic, If You Will.

**TentacleTherapist is idle!**

Fuck my hot life, in a pretzel position, upside down on a teeter-totter. I rub my eyes ruefully. Paradox space really does hate me.

TT: How early are we talking?

GA: Oh! There You Are!

GA: Um. 7 To 8 Sweeps?

TT: And how old is he now?

GA: 7 Sweeps. 7 ½ When We Reach The New Session.

GOGDAMMIT ADFASDFWEFWQFASDV

TT: Oh. Well then.

GA: Indeed.

TT: …

TT: Anything I should know about this? Since we are already elbow-deep in uncomfortable banter?  
GA: …

GA: …

GA: It Is Something I Should Not Discuss.

TT: All my sympathy is yours. However, you are the only person on this meteor to gog knows that I trust to educate me without judgment.

GA: …

GA: Very Well.

GA: The First Heat Of A Troll's Mating Cycle Is The Most Intense. Oh My. This Is Scandalous.

TT: You're doing fine. I'm sorry to do this to you.

GA: Thank You. If They Cannot Find...Release, With A Partner, It Can Be Quite Painful, If Not Traumatizing.

TT: Why only a partner?

GA: ROSE!

TT: Sorry. You were saying? Why would it be painful or traumatizing?

GA: Yes. I Have Been Told It Is Common For Matespirits To Attempt To Synch Up Their Heat Cycles. The Lack Of Release Can Be Painful Because Of A Build-Up Of Genetic Materials. Traumatizing, Because Of The Threat Of Death. Which Now, Is Not So Much, Since We No Longer Live In Fear Of The Drones, But It Is Instinctual. We Seek Out Our Concupiscent Quadrant Partners Both Because We Wish To Express Our Emotions Physically, And Because We Fear Death. Which, Incidentally, Was A Constant Presence In Our Society. Many Of Us Have Heard The Screams Of The Dying In The Night, Who Were Culled For Some Inane Infraction Or Another.

TT: Wow. It is unfortunate that sex carries such dire connotations for your people. Life in general must have been very difficult.

GA: Thank You. And Yes. It Was. It Is Why We Build Such Close Relationships With One Another, To Cope.

TT: I see. If I wasn't sex on legs I'd be running to hug you right now.

GA: HaHaHa.

TT: I didn't mean that sarcastically. I do not wish to cause you discomfort, but the realities of your society were very harsh. I hope in the future, if we win the game, you can create something much better for yourselves.

GA: As do I.

GA: And with any luck...

GA: We can do it...

GA: Together.

D'aww.

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Note: Thanks Yumi!

KB: You're supah welcome, it kinda fell in line with where I was going with the story, so I thought it would be a fun, albeit extremely awkward, thing to add in. Totally has relevance.


	47. Chapter 47

I wanted to apologize, I know the last few chapters have been slow going and super awks, but I swear it's with purpose. Promise. =0)

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TT: That is a lovely sentiment, Kan. I hope so too.

GA: I'm Certain, With You As Our Guide, We Will Be Successful.

TT: Thanks.

My stomach rumbles, angry I have forgotten to feed it.

TT: If you wouldn't mind, I think I shall end our chat here, I've a need for nosh.

GA: Not At All! It Was Lovely To Talk With You, As Always. Thank You Again For The Calendar! I Shall See You In...Two Days!

I close my husktop with a snap, rolling my eyes. It's wonderful that Kanaya is so kind, but it sucks being the only human female on the meteor. I know Harley isn't having this trouble on the ship. I wonder how she's doing. Probably annoyed as hell with John. Or Davesprite. Or both.

I float absently towards the kitchen, lost in thought. Everything she said...it's a lot to take in. Heh. Of course he'd 'bloom' early. What else about my life isn't a clusterfuck. I just don't know if I'll be ready in time. With my luck, no. Not at all. None of my shit has been sorted. None of it. I ruminate over his latest achievements during therapy. He has been doing better, mentioning his lusus less and less, but we still haven't cracked his feelings about his episode before Dave and I arrived at the meteor. I'm not pushing, but it worries me to some extent. I guess he'll talk about it when he's ready. Seems we both are waiting to be.

Clunking and shuffling greets my ears from the fridge when I float into the kitchen. I don't have to ask who it is, as a polka-dotted posterior faces in my direction. Hmm. He hasn't noticed me yet, maybe I should wait until he leaves so as to not tempt him further. He stills before calling out, "Yo, Rosesis!" Damn. "Hello, Gamzee. Whatever are you doing in the thermal hull?" With a crack and pop of his shoulders, he straightens and swivels his head in my direction, lazy grin securely in place, "Got a rude hunger on, but ain't knowing what all I'm like to be having." I nod, keeping my distance by standing behind the kitchen island.

Everything Kan said is playing ring around the rosie with my head meat. I will myself not to look lower than his face. "Ah." I really don't know what to say right at this moment. My lips want to move with the speed of a million questions, but my brain's hamster has officially jumped off the wheel and the mortal coil, tragically without a living will. He looks at me quizzically, cocking his head, an ear perking as a brow raises in question. "You all set to rights, motherfucker? Looking a little white-like all in the face, and I know you ain't wearin no wicked testament. Smell it if you was, nasty miracle that'd be." A private smile dawns on his face as he ducks his head with a barely audible giggle, "Been wearin' enough a mine, anyhow." A blush tinges his ears purple.

Shit, he asked me a question. ..Right. Right. They smell everything on this meteor to teenage hell. Game face, LaLonde! Wear it! "I'm quite all right, Gamz. I'll talk to you later. I was looking for someone." I am a robot. I need oil. Beepbopboop. Arrrg. It's frustrating to be in my head sometimes. Turning quickly, I start walking to the door, attempting to make it look like I have a purpose to be elsewhere. Anywhere. Just not here. A soft padding of feet lope behind me, overtaking my own stiff pace, stopping squarely in my path. A quiet voice purrs as cool, strong hands arrest my forward movement. "Sure you are. Found me. If a motherfucker didn't know better, it'd look like you was running off somewheres." He's so right but I'm so not snitching on myself. I look everywhere but at him, ooh look! Shiny metal table! Ohh! And pans! Lots of fucking pans! A DOOR! Right behind him!

With a snake-charmer's grace, he leans down until his gaze catches mine. Well. Grace isn't the word. Dark indigo eyes squint at my own vivid lavender. Hands squeeze my shoulders, sensing the tension. "Talk, Rosesis. Got you some words running round in there, can feel it all up in my pump-biscuit." FUUUUUUUUUU. Sass! Push the Sass button! "I'm not entirely sure what you speak of, Mr. Makara. I'm feeling very well, moving under my own power," He interrupts, a first for him, really, "Running like a motherfucker on fire to an ablution chamber." A sigh, another squeeze, a push, then I'm suddenly facing in the opposite direction from the door, being marched by the clown like a jailer to the noose. My mouth works ineffectually in protest, opening and closing like a fish that forgot to breathe. "Thought we had a talkdown on this bullshit. Distinctly remember a fine sister like yourself agreeing to no hiding up in her pan when it came to shit that's of motherfucking important dimensions." A stool is pulled out, an emphatic finger points to where my genetically superior bum should be placed. I shoot the stink eye back at my honking asshole before settling on the seat.

"I said I was fine. No need for interrogation, Mr. Makara." He hmms, and a glass filled with that pestilent Faygo is slid over the island to my hand. I catch it, picking up the glass to sniff the contents tentatively. Grape. A pink silly straw drops into my glass as he settles himself onto the stool beside me. I refuse to say anything, sipping with a resolute pout. He seems perfectly content to wait me out, sliding his glass back and forth between his hands with a patient goofy grin.

He hums out a hmpf when the silence goes on long enough, "Funny, been noticing you use my formal name," my chair slides over to bump against his, "when you want some motherfucking distance tween you and me." Thank you, captain obvious. Take a bow while roses are showered on your head. Wait. No. Just. No. Maybe. Later. ARG. "Perhaps it is a hint, Mr. Makara." His snide smirk rejoicing in his little victory in getting me to talk flickers at the edge of my vision, "Perhaps I ain't too good at taking em." Cool fingers diddle with the sleeve of my shirt, tugging and twisting to create a pointy pattern before skating up my arm to brush down and rest against the small of my back, "Maybe coz you ain't trying too hard to leave." His proximity is both intoxicating and troubling. Grr.

Finally annoyed, I zap his fingers away while staring furiously at my crazy straw. Which is damn hard to do with a straight face. "Fine. I have spoken to Kan, and it has become quite clear why you've been so...friendly... of late." He scratches behind his ear in frustration, "Friendly? Shit, I'm always friendly with a motherfucker. Am I getting too close-like with another motherfucker what makes you upset, or something?" Not the answer I was expecting. "No, Gamzee. Not that. Though I suppose I might if you did. What I'm talking about," I let out a harsh breath, "Is the fact you've been a little more physical than usual the last few days. It wasn't until I spoke with Kan as to why this phenomena had been occurring." There, I said it. Happy now?!

Confusion filters over his lazy grin, muting it. "What the motherfuck did glowysis say?" Really. I'm talking about this. Again. I'm doing it. I'm climbing the sex-talk mountain. Gog I hate my life so hard. "She didn't say anything, I just figured out why you'd been so touchy feely." Lightning strikes somewhere in the Void. Comprehension! Honks of laughter peal from my companion. "Why the motherfuck didn't you get your say so on for, Rosesis! I been all up and knowing you're in your star-lady femcycle. Sure makes it motherfucking hard to keep my mitts off, but it's all good. Ain't like you a troll calling on a motherfucker for a pailing or nothin." Shock turns my eyes into buttons, he continues hurriedly on, "Not like I'd be a opposed to dropping a good miracle with you. Fuck, say the word sister, I'm all ears." Bwaaah?!

I choke out my next few words, disbelief painting them in harsh syllables, "St-starlady femcycle?! What? Who? Just...what the fuck are you talking about?" I already know, kind of, but I want to hear him say it. His hair obscures his furiously blushing face as he mumbles out his answer. "Karbro yelled at me while ago, said I had to get the wicked understanding on a motherfucker if I up and wanted to be with ya. Kinda cuz your smell threw me off. Didn't understand you wasn't trying to get on with a brother, just part of who you was, er. Are." Okay. Ok. I knit my brow and pretend to close my eyes, peeking out of the corner, "So you're saying Karkat made you do research? To understand human physiology?" He turns his head, "Physi-what?" Oh for chrissake. "The human body." He nods,"Oh. Yeah."

He flips his hair back, a familiar devious grin splitting his face, "You-all's pailing videos are motherfucking hilarious. Alla that oooh and ahhh for near nothing at all. Gotta say, though, man bulges're fucking weird blunt pointy things, got no movement to 'em. Feel kinda bad for Dave and Rezi." Oh gog, theirs have 'movement'. He keeps talking over my musings, "Ladies are all sexy and bouncy, though, a motherfucker can abide by that shit, even iffen she don't got no bulge. Ain't no way to tell what quadrant them shenanigans are going down in. " …

Still no sense of boundaries. Things to work on. My brain distantly puts together a plan while the rest of me vacations in the land of 'OMGWTF Gamzee knows about human porn.' His words trail off, "...Rosesis? You okay?" I close and rub a hand over my eyes. This. Brave face, LaLonde. "Yes. Who exactly showed you these movies?" His tone takes on uncertainty as he hunches over his glass, "Karbro. We do something wrong? Fuck. Always am, the hell am I asking for." GRAAAHHHERFASDFXZDF. I hate Karkat. So much. Right Now.

I swivel counter-clockwise in my chair, bumping his butt with my knee, and lightly punch him on the shoulder. "Oh shut up, you did nothing wrong. Chill out." I just want to slap Karkat for taking away your innocence. That's my job. Whoa there, girlfriend. Slow your roll. Naughty visions dance in my head as I attempt to rub them away with a finger on my temple. Bad. Girl! He peers at me over his shoulder, "Well, somebody motherfucking did something to make you get your grump on." He counters my spin, a little too vigorously, crashing into me. It doesn't hurt, just makes me laugh. Clumsy dumbass. "That's better, Rosesis. Sure you ain't angry none?" Ugh. This conversation. "I'll be fine. It's just, there's been a lot swirling about in my head today. Much to mull over." My stomach growls impatiently, interrupting my thoughts, "But I don't think I'll get much more thinking done if I don't stuff some food down my gob. I assume you are still hungry as well?"

His face lights up at the prospect of food, "Hell yeah, chica! Gotta quell this sick nasty rumbling in my nutrient sack!" Good. Great way to put distance between us and the second worst conversation to happen today. "Excellent. You can help me whip up something to eat." An inexplicable smile flashes across his lips at my words, disappearing like a shade. "Sure enough. Get your tell on what all I got to be doing." Hmming and tapping a finger on my lip in thought, I decide on chicken Tangine. Lots of prep means more directions and less uncomfortable talk.

"Is it safe to assume you've cooked for yourself before?" Gamzee's silence says volumes. He doesn't meet my look, shuffling a big foot on the scratched floor. "Uhm, not really? Purplebloods n' up get food delivered to 'em weekly-like. Just gotta heat it up. Most of my cooking was all about my wicked confections. Even that was pretty easy, just dump it in and bake. Karbro used to come over sometimes and cook for me, though. Wouldn't let me near the knives. Said I'm like to chop my own bulge off on accident." His last statement is said with a decidedly scandalized frown. I suppress a giggle. "Think you can abstain from bulge mutilation if I show you how to chop veggies?"

"Hell fucking yes, Rosesis! You gonna show me how to work some motherfucking cook-tastic miracles?" It's cute when he's excited. Pushing away the uncomfortable twinges of earlier conversation, I slide off my stool and walk to the counter. There has to be aprons in the menagerie of shelves on the back wall, somewhere. I hand him the most masculine one I can find, a simple white edged in red. Yeah. He still looks silly/adorable, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet and ready for action, face alight with an eagerness to please. I just grab the next one down, tying it hastily around my neck and waist as I point out different utensils and spices we'll need that I can't reach. Because some asshole put them on high shelves, giving all the room to junk food. All of it.

Another shadow of a smile passes over his lips when I finally turn around to face him to tick off all the ingredients off the top of my head. He sidles behind me to help put everything in a reachable order, sneaking a kiss on my cheek. "Let's focus on the food, Mr. Makara." He rolls his wrist in a mock salute,"Yes Ma'am!" Dork. I start calling out ingredients, "Chicken?" He plops the breasts at the center of the island,"Just us cluckbeasts." Rolling my eyes at the pun, "Onion?" He daintily picks it up by the very top, putting it very clearly on my side of the workstation."Smelly motherfucker all right here." My shoulders quake in mirth."Two cloves garlic?" He pushes the garlic next to the onion with a fingertip, "Stinky's brother, check." LOL. "Potatoes?" His head rests on mine, his voice vibrating against the back of my skull. "Mm-hmm" Another kiss is planted playfully in my hair. Exasperated, I poke his cheek with a threatening finger. "Will you stop that?!" He nips it, holding on long enough to lick the tip. It sends a quick thrill down my spine. Smiling smugly, he lets go. "Nope. What's next?" I glower playfully, "Tomatoes?" He shifts to the left, giving me a peck on the nose. "Sure as I'm breathin." He's winning the make Rose crazy Olympics. He has all the medals. "Carrots?" Hands find their way to my hips as a not-so-chaste kiss lands on the back of my neck. "Orange bulges all up and ready." I flick his nose to chase him away. Um. Didn't need that mental image. "Pepper, salt, water, veggie oil?" "Check, check, double motherfucking check, check on lock. Shit's all up and ready to go. What's next?" I free myself from his grasp, taking two knives from the magnetic strip next to the stove. "We chop."

He picks up what he needs to do quickly, nimble fingers imitating my own as I show him how to cut the vegetables into neatly diced squares. He is the paradigm of helpful. Outside of the bumping into me on purpose and stealing a snog when I get in range, giggling like a maniac when I shoo him away. Perhaps prolonged exposure to my "star-lady" whiles are getting to him.

I bat away his next offensive, slapping him on the backside with my cleaver as he retreats. "Good lord, man! Control yourself!" He breaks into a devilish grin, "Mmm-mm." I chop the chicken into thin strips with extra vigor. When he reaches the other side of the island to resume, as he calls it, his 'sassy chopping duties,' I feel it safe to ask. I appraise him with a questing look, "Is there any reason for these most egregious attacks on my person, Gamzee?" A smirk toys with his features. He doesn't respond except for pointing enigmatically at me.

Uh? Oh Jegus. Is my hotness too much to handle? "Ah, is my um. Scent? Overpowering you or something? I'll leave if it makes it easier...to deal with." He giggles, emphatically pointing at my chest again. "Nope." Oh fuck me, is there a hole in my shirt or something? I look down at the pink frilly mess that is my apron. When I was younger, I learned how to read upside down out of boredom. Took an entire day and one of the modified Maplehoof books Dave had sent me. Emblazoned on the apron, stitched very clearly in neon purple letters, reads 'Kiss The Cook.' The harangued scowl that flashes over my face probably makes me look a bit like Popeye. His brows waggle over his sunny smile. "Just following orders, motherfucker."

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Note: I kind of hate the idea of Gamzee being a ridonkulous sex gog, seeing as he was probably too young to have any opportunities before the game. Some of his actions may just be instinct. That doesn't stop me from painting him as a shameless flirt, however. He's beautifully uncomplicated that way.

Note: Thanks to Curiously-Insane for the crit, supah helpful! =0)

Thanks to Kitty-bandit! I know, poor girl. Your reviews always make me laugh!


	48. Chapter 48

**Author's note: Trigger Warning: Depression, Flashbacks, Child Abuse. **

You guys are gonna hate the shit out of me after this chapter. Hell, I hate me.

Note: thanks Yumi, I know thischapter was a little rough. Had a hard time writing it.

Note: thanks anon! I appreciate your enthusiasm.

Note: thank you Ed! I always try really hard to balance the story, and I am very glad you've enjoyed it thus far!

Note:Thanks to four1260u's add to the God Tier community and encouragement! Go read the stories, all, they are quite good!

Note: Thanks Maria! I'm always happy to hear from you!

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Gamzee wends his way around the counter, smug smile firmly in place. I can't believe I didn't notice that when I put the apron on. "Aww come on, Rosesis, don't let that grump bend your smile all upsidedown like. Thought it was funny as hell." I nod my head and roll my eyes in resignation. "Clearly, your prankster's gambit must be going bananas." Arms wrap around me as I finish up chopping the last of the garlic, "Hell yes, all sortsa boonbucks and shit up in here. I'm all done makin little squares with plant matter, what we gotta do now? Eat it?" Wow. It's amazing he grew up to this age, sometimes. Hmm. Prankster's gambit. With a last flourish, I take a very small piece of garlic on my finger as I reply, "Not quite. We have to combine the ingredients and cook. Would you be a dear and get that deep skillet?" I point to a cast-iron pan hanging above the oven, with a sweet innocent smile. "Sure enough, miracle sister." When his back is turned, I flick the garlic into his hair. Good luck finding it, Makara!

He kindly places the skillet on the stovetop, "Gogdamn lil mama, this shit's heavy as fuck! How you gonna get your cook on iffen you can't move it?" Grr. "First of all, Makara, I am. Not. Little. Secondly, we don't need to move the pan, sitting it on the burner is just fine, thank you." It drops on the largest burner with a clang, and Gamzee turns to ruffle my hair playfully, "Sounds good. And you're all hells of kinds a fun-sized, like the spun sugar sweets we get on 12th Perigee's Eve! Itty bitty," I swing a wild fist without real conviction, "Don't you dare!" He dodges easily, flash-stepping to my other side to whisper in my ear, with a bit of tongue, ew, "and soooo sweet!" This is ridiculous. He's ridiculous.

I bump him away with my hip before turning with an irate steadfastness to the oven. "Shoo, silly boy. I'm dealing with fire and I don't need a polka-dotted distraction." He raises his hands in surrender, grinning widely, opting to plop down on the center island. "Betting those fires would be calling themselves some sorta wicked sick, sister." I shake my head from side to side, refusing to let him see the smirk blossoming on my face in response to his awful pun. I oil the skillet, putting in extra for luck, feeling guilty I shooed Gamz away when I promised to show him how to cook.

Calling him back, I instruct by demonstration, "See, this is the easy part," I guide his hand in scooping in all the ingredients, "just put it all in, set it to simmer, and wait for 45 minutes." It's easy to forget how tall he is sometimes, what with the constant slouching. When I turn to face him, looking up, up, up, he's wearing a sweet, sheepish smile. "Thanks, sister." I gently push him away from the stove, because I don't feel like catching fire, "For what, exactly?" Gamzee rubs behind his horn with a light blush at his neck and earlobes, "Ain't no-one showed me how to do nothin before outside a schoolfeeding. Either learn it my own self, or don't learn it at all." That's both saddening and adorable. I gather him into a hug, mumbling into his chest, "You're welcome, you giant goofy clown." He hugs me back like I'm the most precious, breakable thing he's ever touched in his life. I think he's sniffing my hair. Weird.

And we hug. And hug. And...well damn. It's been five minutes. "Gamz?" He exhales into my hair, "Mmmm?" Jegus, he hugs like it's the last time he's getting one. "Can we move, you know, to a chair or something?" He whines, squeezing me closer, nodding a negative which draws his nose back and forth against the top of my head. He better not have any boogers. "We can continue hugging there if you are so inclined, but we have quite a wait in front of us and I'd rather do it sitting." Eventually Gamz relents, with a somber little pout of a five year old that got told Santa isn't real. It quickly disappears as he ponders the pantry closet door nearby with a leer and wagging brows. A light tug on my wrist detours us swiftly. Don't think so, skippy. I dig in my heels and point us back towards the table, "While the food is cooking, I believe privacy would be a terrible idea, sir. I somehow think we would accomplish very little eating." Wow. That was a stupid thing to say. His grin in response is absolutely lascivious, "I dunno, sister. Think I could get nibbling on something tasty in no time."

Well. If I wasn't blushing before, I certainly am now. Giving him an arch expression to cover up how flustered I feel, I sass back, "I'm sure, Gamzee. It's certain I could do with more grape and sea salt in my life." He looks a little surprised, but I keep going, "Don't give me that look, it's what you smell like." And taste like. A crooked grin hangs dangerously close to falling off his visage, "That so? Didn't think humans had the sponges what to smell motherfuckers with. Sure spent enough time spying on the shore drinking the wicked elixir, surprised I don't still have sand all up and friendly with my nether-bits." Not a vision I needed in my head. Chafing is never funny. The table comes up more quickly than I thought, and I find myself pinned by his hips against the back of a chair, surrounded by arms resting atop it behind my shoulders. His eyes look a little darker in color, face and body looming over mine as his voice growls subtly, "Your sniffer got a sense on anything else?" Wait. Is...this? Is this a turn-on for him? What the fuck. And that was a stupid pun.

Should I answer honestly, or will that get me in trouble and burn the food? Not that I mind the trouble he seems to be considering, but today IS therapy day. No kissie, or touchie. We are totally breaking the latter rule, and it seems very soon we'll break the former. The chair creaks behind me as he presses closer, voice a thrumming sandpaper, "Well?" His breath is close enough I can feel it stirring my eyelashes. I start to feel a little trapped, squirming under his scrutiny. This scenario itches the corners of my mind in an uncomfortable deja vu. If I look at him, I'm going to lose what little control I have left. Control is very important.

Busying myself by staring at Gamzee's shirtfront, I finally give my answer. "Some variety of musk, I suppose. Try as I might, I can't quite categorize it outside of that. Is that of some type of importance?" Instead of answering, he tips my head back aggressively, a dry moan escaping from his mouth to mine as he roughly kisses me. That answers that question. Surprised, my limbs go stiff under his grip, out of shock and fear. This is too much like...then. Fuck FUCK. No. Don't think about that. FUUUUCK. The wellspring of dark places in my mind come charging to the forefront, an unchecked flood.

Suddenly, he's not Gamzee. His cool hands are replaced by square, calloused fingers. Always too rough, always too strong to get away from. Pinching, tugging, pushing, angry, controlling. My sense of smell is overwhelmed by the stench of sour bourbon, gin, and tobacco. Unkempt stubble scrapes mercilessly against my 12 year old skin. It's Bob, or Jack, or some other asshole mother dragged home from the bar. Who always 'accidentally' finds their way to my room. I'm stuck at home, crying and scared in my bedroom. Everything else was just a daydream. Something to escape this hell. I stare at the star-bedecked ceiling, waiting for it all to be over.

I'm pressed against my desk chair, it's wicker back working patterns into my skin through my Maple Hoof nightclothes. Everything from the roots of my hair to my bones in my feet ache from weariness. Every time. Every fucking time I tell her...she never believes me. I TOLD HER what they did to me. Fucking SHOWED HER every mark. And she brings them home again. She ranted on and on that I 'did this to myself' and I 'am trying to sabotage her happiness.' If only. I glare at his squat, ugly face, wishing with every ounce of flesh in my small body that magic was real, so I could just rip this freak show a new asshole. My books and writing implements scatter to the wind behind us. With a bruising grip on my arms, he grins, growling out a vicious simper, "What's wrong, little mama?" I don't answer. There's never a point. Fingers work their way under my shirt, drumming on my sides in a featherlight staccato. How the hell can I think about music when this schmuck is on me. I stop myself, emptying my mind as I have every time before, and open my eyes to stare listlessly at my attacker. It always unnerves them when I act like a dead fish. It's the only recourse I have, another passive-aggressive jab that ruins none but myself.

I stay rather steadfast while his hands wander, pinching and marking skin here and there, always in places no-one will see. My resolve quakes a bit when he fingers the clasp of my training bra. It signals we are going much further than I'd hoped. Sometimes...sometimes they pass out before anything happens. Not tonight, obviously. Lucky me. He shakes me with vehemence when a hiccuping sob escapes me, my mask of indifference slipping momentarily. "Chica? Yo! Talk to me, girl!" Icy fingers prod my shoulders and cheeks. "Rosesis? Fuck, Miracle Sister! You all right?" Indigo eyes bore into my own, snapping me out of it. Holy fuck. Gamzee. Breathe, LaLonde. He didn't touch you like that. It's...okay. He caught you off guard. You're all right. It's all in your head. I start shivering and shaking in earnest, choking on sobs, magic zinging over my skin in a nervous reflex.

The room comes back into focus one element at a time. Color. The gunmetal of the walls, shiny and bright. Gamzee's bright purple eyes, dark hair, multi-colored horns, hovering very close. He looks fit to bust out of worry. Scent. The tangine cooking away in the skillet. Thankfully not burnt. Hints of grape, ocean, musk. Taste. The bitter air of the meteor, metallic, clinging, recycled and acrid. Sauteed garlic and onion. I close my eyes, trying to steady myself and quell the sternum-shattering beat of my heart and the rib-straining wheeze of my breath. Sound. Tangine sizzling and popping in the skillet on the stove. Whooshing currents of air being pushed out of the vents. Gamzee babbling near incoherence, "Oh my gog Rosesis what the fuck did I do I'm so sorry are you going to be okay I swear to gog I don't even know what I was thinking please please please talk to me I'm so motherfucking sorry please don't be mad!" Touch. The hard wooden chair beneath me, slightly warmer than the air surrounding us. His big, lithe hands resting carefully on my shoulders like scared birds. The zapping static of magic in the air around me, making my skin burn and itch. Combined together, it gives one a sense of overload.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I haul myself up in an ungainly fashion to turn away and walk over to the oven. My legs barely cooperate with the request, and I doubt magic would be much better. Anything to avoid those panic-stricken eyes. "Chica? Hey chica?! Hey! Sister! Talk-to-me-p-l-e-a-s-e!" Gamzee hovers behind me, a whirlwind of uncertainty and anxiety. I can't. I can't explain this to him. Or anyone. I poke at the tangine with a distinct disinterest as he drapes himself over my shoulders, still chattering in a non-stop babble of apologies. "Sister, I'm so fucking sorry I didn't know I won't ever..." I interrupt him with a pap, shrugging to loosen his hold on me. I have to say something.

"Please. Just...stop. I'm fine." It's not enough. Gamz spins me, a walking grimace of apprehension and desperation, vibrating with tension. "Like hell you are, miracle-sister! I know my kisses are like to die for, but shit, ain't never had a motherfucker cry like a wriggler before. Went all dead-eyed and far away on me. Just like this motherfucker right here getting a look-see in a mirror when reality gets all slidey and trixy. Where the motherfuck did your pan take you, sister?" He's careful to avoid touching my face, but that doesn't stop him from craning down to get a better viewpoint.

He's too close. Everything is too close. The room spins and presses in dangerously. Palms up, I push lightly until he stumbles back, butt thumping against the island. "Gamzee, please. I will be fine. Just, give me some room." Fingers fidget with his shirt and each other, his breath hitching as he bites his lip, ready to cry. "But...but...you was all gone and breathing hard like someone up and hurt you, and I didn't mean to kiss you like that I just thought it was all sexy-like you could smell me telling you what I motherfucking felt in my pump-biscuit and I wasn't thinking and I'm kinda freaked the fuck out right now." Jegus jumping Christmas on a corndog platter spewing volcanic amounts of ephemera. From both ends. My lips turn to a sharp, downward-curving knife as I tug the roots of my hair and sigh. Walking over to the other side of the island, I lean over it to blankly study my hands. "I apologize if I frightened you. It just took me by surprise." I am the queen of understatements. Bow before me, my minions. Spacing out, I wonder idly if I should bump up my intake of St. John's Wort and Valerian root. Probably. I hear the tail end of Gamzee's response, "...still ain't a motherfucking answer, sister. I ain't got rocks in my pan, even if every motherfucker on this meteor thinks I ain't got nothing between these ears mine."

I trace around the tiles on the counter-top as I gather my scattered mind, keeping talk relegated to him in the meantime. "You know, you're awfully hard on yourself. I don't believe I've ever called you stupid, and I'm a bit offended you believe that I would think it of you." Grey hands slide into view, a few scant, nervous inches from my own, palms up in invitation. His voice takes a softer edge, as if he were talking to a frightened animal, "I got the knowledge on that. Hard to break habits, I'm guessing. Been drilled into my thought maker enough sometimes it's easier to just bob a head and play along. ...You ain't gonna talk about it, are you?" Ten points for being astute.

I tentatively trace the outside of his palms on the counter before I speak, willing away tears. "It's...complicated." Gamzee stays perfectly still, letting me complete the circuit around each digit patiently. "Kinda figured on that. Sister's got layers like Maryam's dresses. All sophisticated and shit." I snort, "I highly doubt the sophistication." His thumb strokes mine as it makes its next pass, " I ain't. Least be telling me what sent a sister on a bad trip?" Good question. I think back, trying to catalog what sent me over the edge with a frown. Was it the push back? The surprise kiss? My earlier conversation with Kanaya? Or with him? Maybe the intensity? Or his naked desire? The chair? Fuck. What was it? It's all so murky, I can't remember clearly enough.

I grab one of his hands, pressing it to my temple to stave off an impending headache. Mumbling into his palm, I try to pull together a sensible answer. "I suppose...It was a combination of things that just happened to remind me of some...unpleasant... memories of my past." He rubs experimentally at the juncture of my temple, and I sag into the contact, "So, no chairs then. Or getting a rowdy kiss on all ninja-like. You want I should let a motherfucker know what all is going down?" The last part makes me laugh a watery chuckle. "I somehow think announcing 'I, Gamzee Makara, am going to kiss you now, with my wicked awesome lips all up on your sexy motherfucking star lady face.' would just ruin the moment." His giggle is a little muted, "We'll see about that shit. But... I ain't wanting to go through that again iffen I don't have to. Maybe not be all so pushy? For now?" Fuck if I know. I nod, "Sure. Sounds good. Thanks."

The timer dings, finally, for our dinner. I pull out bowls and other cutlery, letting him serve us both and pack away the rest in Tupperware. Once we are settled side by side, he hesitates. I raise an eyebrow, "What?" He pokes a spoon in, testing the admixture before him. "Alla that stinky stuff actually taste good?" Jabbing him with an elbow in a teasing gesture, I respond coyly, "Aww! Mr. Makara, are you afraid? Should I get you a security blanket?" He glowers at me with a jutting lip, taking a heaping spoonful to shovel into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a few seconds before swallowing. He pushes both my and his bowl away before announcing loudly, "I, Gamzee motherfucking Makara, am going to kiss this fine chica now, for making these wicked awesome miracles in my mouth." Garlic kisses aren't great, but at least I haven't scared him off.


	49. Pause for reflection Spoilers for HS

**Author's note: Warning: Spoilers and thoughts on the future of Homestuck and this story**. **SCROLL DOWN TO THE BOTTOM TO SEE THEORIES FROM CAPRICIOUS QUERIES! I stand by most of what I said, but what I added on to the end here makes me seriously re-think giving up the story arc. Grey areas are wonderful. heh. And now I promise to actually update for real real, not for play play. ** I'm really sorry, MulattaFury, for crapping this all over your askbox today. I just ^had^ to get this out. Consolidating my thoughts here. Again, soo soo sorry. I should have done this in the first place. But my feels. My feels made me do stupid things. Check out her tumblr its awesooommmeee.

About the update: First of all: Makaras. Prince and Bard of pant-shitting. They win all the contests in making me crap my pants profoundly.

IMHO: I started writing this fic knowing very well that Hussie may make Gamz a minion of Lord English, but in my foolish temerity I wrote it anyway. Because I'd like to believe everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. Don't get me wrong, what Hussie's done with the ancestors is truly masterful, building them up as false idols and knocking them down as said idols often are. (I.E. Mirthful Messiahs. Notice G. is having none of K's shit about the MM's, just tells him to shut up and hand over the piece. By the by lol, so hard. I will fucking laugh off my shameglobes if the codpiece has magical clown powers.) And as much as I'd love to believe that the Gamzee we've come to know and love will come back, it wouldn't be much of a character progression. He wouldn't grow, or change, instead remaining static and boring. Granted, he could have gone for the therapy route, but Hussie. He likes killing kids and making people cry. Someone check his basement. As a writer, I'm actually kind of familiar with this particular villain archetype, and anyone who's ever played a video-game would be as well. The religious/fixated zealot who loses faith, turning to a search for power and a quest to take over the world, or serve as an agent of chaos to fill the void. Who was once a close friend of the protagonist, an ally, to be lost to madness.

I mean, think of parallels in other stories: Harvey Dent in the Batman series, um, others that I totes can't think of right now. One would also notice that these characters serve as a genesis point for the protagonist/hero, either sending them into a deep despair, or giving the final push to let go of childish things and become what they need to be in order to fend off a greater evil. Sometimes both. I also see Karkles as a semi-reluctant hero, insomuch that during the beginning of the story arc, while he very much wanted to lead, he had great difficulty in forming the personal relationships to do so. At this point in the narrative, he's having a crisis in confidence, everything he's believed about the world has been turned on its ear, much like Gamzee's former faith vs. the ICP. Clearly, he's dealing with it much better than his moirail. I imagine in Karkat's position, Gamzee's madness did in fact force him to mature in some respects. It's seen in how he doesn't fly off the handle at Kankri, how he converses with (by actually explaining his FEELINGS, CLEARLY) to Terezi, as well as how he sees through the fragile facades of the ancestors to what they really are, molly-coddled d-bags who do not deserve the hype they've been given. Which is another brilliant point raised by Hussie, that characters given everything and raised without conflict tend to be self-centered, insensitive assholes. He's more or less saying that without adversity, a character cannot grow and change. Brilliantly. Even with Karkat's new understanding of the world, he's still flawed. He tells Meenah about his dream of becoming a threshecutioner, even though it is most likely not something that will ever come to pass, even offering to assist her dumpass ghost-army cherub-killing party if she hasn't garnered more followers the next time they bump into each other in a bubble. Which either means he's going to kill himself (pls pls Hussie no I lub my cranky asphole) or he doesn't understand the mechanics of the dream-bubbles (hilarious.). But it really does feel like he's saying goodbye, since he seems to be emotionally raw at the moment. So gird your loins, fellow homestucks. We may lose him. Or, he follows the path of a semi-reluctant hero, eventually putting aside his differences with Dave to put together a well-thought out cooperative assault on both English and his minions. I'll touch back on this in a bit.

Anyway, more to the point about the Makaras: First of all, Kurloz has freakishly strong chucklevoodoos, just as Gamzee has. (Mind control. 2spooky.) They have probably been influencing each other over the millennia. Don't get me wrong, Kurloz is no innocent bby here. His mind-control over his former matespirit is reprehensible. I also strongly believe that he chucklevoodoos the shit out of Mituna, since he was once the one who was capable of detecting doom (Kurloz clearly had to get rid of that b/c of his association with L.E., whose sole function is to doom and destroy universes), and now just does it at random for fun. I evidence that via the fact we cannot see Mituna's eyes during his freakouts, but he seems to be clutching at his head as if to retain control over it. And when he's with Kurloz, he's more easily understood, which may be an indicator of some sort of influence. This is not to take away from the fact Mituna risked his mind and abilities to save his friends. That's fucking awesome that he was willing to sacrifice himself for others. Just good writing, really. I just think somehow Kurloz was involved with it. Anyway.

I believe Kurloz has been in contact with Gamzee most of his life. Part of the "Gamzee is the most important character" thing Hussie stated. Evidenced by G's alternating capitals, which one will notice Kurloz only speaks in upper-case, and Gamzee in lower case, during the mini-game. Only when Gamzee was high was he capable of keeping all the crazy away, speaking in BaLaNcE. His space-outs during the beginning of the story arc probably were communications between himself and Kurloz, or himself and English. Gamzee's rage-mode and killing Eq. And Nep. may have been the dream that caused Kurloz' vast honk that deafened Meulin. The communication is also evidenced during Gamzee's breakdown, when he refers to himself, and another entity, who speaks in capitals (cough cough Kurloz), as the Mirthful Messiahs.

It's also clear Lord English has been influencing both throughout their lives, Kurloz obviously worshiping a combo of English (who is both Doc Scratch and L.E, thus the angel of double death. And are creepy dolls. Not to mention the duality of caliborn/calliope) and maybe Gamzee (the whole weird clown cult thing). Gamzee's influence was subtle over the course of the narrative, the special stardust in his hive, a main foodstuff of cherubs, his interaction with Doc Scratch, his carrying around of lil'cal, who is dressed as one of the Felt, who are minions of English, his eyes glowing green when he blows up Jade's home, not to mention his bizarre mentions of death and chaos, which out of context seem strange and out of character, but when taken in the knowledge that he is working with English, makes sense. One will also notice that his lusus is not a presence in his life, as well as Kurloz's, which is a red flag in characterization. Animals are great indicators of a person's true self, and if they avoid someone, it's because there is something deeply dangerous and wrong about them. Let's not forget his pesterchum name: TerminallyCapricious. Terminal often refers to a biological or structural flaw that will cause destruction or collapse. He's fatally whimsical, assisting a 'disease' (English) of sorts to manifest in the universe on a rage-filled whim. It also means his choices will probably lead to his own destruction. Which may or may not redeem him. It may in fact be a death in service to Karkat, to protect the only person who's ever really cared about him. (gross sobbing) Often characters with this particular breed of madness are brought redemption through death, only realizing after a mortal wound what they've wrought, and apologizing for it to their former friend. Or they go laughing off into the dark. It's impossible to decide at this point.

However, this is something Karkat is going to have to deal with. Firstly, he'll have to deal with the fact his attempts to be Gamzee's moirail have failed to pacify him, another personal failure that will probably hurt him deeply. Of course he will blame himself for Gamzee's defection to Lord English's side. He'll think it was because he didn't try enough, care enough, etc. It's probably a point Gamzee will use against him to escape capture in the future narrative, pushing that particular button to give Karkat pause long enough to get away. Karkat will also most likely attempt to save Gamzee from himself, or from English, refusing to see that he is just a warped husk of the person he once was. His loss of a friend will force him to grow and mature as a character, using grief to become strong enough to do what needs to be done. It will probably be the impetus he needs to go along with Dave's plan to kill English. Or at least partly the reason he goes with him. For sure, he, Dave, and Gamzee will be at the final battle. He will also have to face the choice of saving his friend, allowing all others to be destroyed, or killing him in order to give him his redemption, and live with that regret the rest of his life. Which to me seems more in line with his character, everything he does is tinged with regret, perpetually angry at the choices his past self has made. It's so many feels. Like woah.

There is a slim possibility that Gamzee may indeed act as a double-agent, seemingly working for LE, but really working against him. It would align with his class, Bard, which is a wildcard party. It's very clear that he's capable of manipulation, a key part of his class, which is seen in his manipulation of Terezi into choosing to kill Vriska out of anger (inviting destruction through rage), as well as his ability to cover up the fact he's been involved with Lord English and Kurloz his entire life. Which he may have been fending off with sopor to shut them the hell up. (Or was just using to bide his time.) Perhaps why he told Kurloz to shut his mouth, cuz he's goddamn tired of hearing his preachy bullshit, heard it in his head for like, ever. Seriously, that dude's shit is like going to church. A bard is capable of pushing his party to great success or failure, depending. So he could, on a whim, decide to destroy English. Or Karkat and the surviving players. In all likelihood, that choice will be made in too little, too late territory. Because Hussie makes us cry. Because he's such a good damn writer. Damn him. All of my feels. So stomped on.

Lastly, Dave. Dave Dave Dave. As a character, he is the iconic reluctant hero. He has no interest in rushing off to this final battle with Lord English, even though he's had dreams indicating that he will, in fact, do that very same thing. As a knight (like Karkat) his role is to protect others. His aspect, time, is what will give him the advantage he needs to do so, since L.E. Is also a character with time powers. One will notice that even though he is unwilling, Dave has, time and again, sacrificed himself for others. He allowed a doomed Dave to die to prove to Terezi he was not, in fact, an awful person. His sprite killed himself to create better chances for his past self. He took bullets for Harley in order to protect her in a battle against Jack Noir, even if it was a doomed self, it was still him. In multiple instances he has proven that he is willing to die for his friends. Which makes him ideal to do battle against Lord English, as the character of the Knight is often the one, in literature, anyway, that destroys corrupt entities in society. However, at this point in the narrative, he is in the part of a hero's journey (penny-arcade has a neat tutorial about the hero's journey:  /patv/episode/the-heros-journey-part-1. It's two parts, well worth the watch.) called the 'turning away'. He's wasting time on the ebubbles and other chicanery simply because he's not ready to face the final battle that may well be his final sacrifice. Perhaps Karkat will assist in changing his mind with his newfound maturity, though I doubt the snarking will ever ever end.

Sorry. I'm done Serketing now. I've been knee-deep in this "Dammit No Gamzee Bby Pls" feels all damn day. But like I said, this update has me at a crossroads with the story I'm writing. I was trying, within reason, to keep the story relatively close to what's going on in Hussie's narrative. Clearly Rose is dating Kanaya, which also makes sense. I just wanted to fix his brain because...well. I believe in redemption, in the human ability to overcome darkness and change, for the better. Kinda have to. For reasons. That have nothing to do with killing people. Promise. I can blithely go on with the storyline as is, and believe that everything is great and nothing hurts, or I can blend in the elements of Gamzee's madness, giving him the destiny Hussie has chosen, more or less. I can work it either way, but damn. It's a hard choice. Whatever I choose, I'm going to end this before I get my pump biscuit broken into teeny-tiny pieces when Gamzee leaves Karkat behind to join L.E. Because when that day comes, I'ma cry. All. Day. And maybe throw my computer out the window.

**OMFG Somebody saved my life. Dis. Dis beutiful biatch right chere. At Capriciousqueries on tumblr. Why did I not think of these things. Why. because I'm a goddamn pessimist and everything has to suck shameglobes through a straw at the highest level of compression at the bottom of the Marianas Trench. I don't even care if I spelled that wrong. Nyeh.**

Gamzee: Good or Evil? [Theory + SPOILERS]

i usually /don't/ do theorizing shit. this is probably going to be a bit disjointed so please bear with me.

My thoughts on **Gamzee - GOOD OR EVIL!?** under the read more. SPOILERS WITH NEW UPDATE SRSLY GUYS. This is pretty long.

Edit: Oh yeah, because I tagged this, I do the ask blog **Capricious Queries:** ( ), a sober!Gamzee ask blog, for what it's worth, and a person sent me an ask regarding my feelings on this and when I asked my blog in a fit of uncertainty others agreed, so that's my… who I am. IDK haha. sigh.

Edit x2: Not changing any opinions or anything, just added a little more stuff I thought about.  
**Edit x3**: Opinions still in tact, but I added a pretty big sixth point to my original 5 points, drawing back on another comic that Andrew Hussie did (thank you to **novatoast** for bringing it to my attention!) and some other words straight from the Hussmaster's mouth.  
**Edit x4**: This theory ( post/32342137728/i-have-a-gamzee-theory-it-relies-on-a-lot-of) here by edoro is interesting and should be read. I've also added a few minor thoughts here and there, and fixed up a bit of wording.

Preface: Keep in mind I have pretty majour biases for Gamzee being a good guy and my GamKar obsession, but for me I feel pretty strongly about this. This is likely not any new grand theory or anything and may be pretty obvious so I'm sorry if so.

My feelings:  
Gamzee is acting in morally ambiguous/outright negative ways for the sake of the greater good, or what he personally perceives as the greater good - for the sake of clarification, I believe his ultimate goal is to help his friends.

And note: I do not think he was consistently a good guy during the murder arc - I feel he made what he may (keyword on may, but it is my personal belief that his emotions regarding his actions can shift quite a lot depending on his mindset) perceives as mistakes, but may or may not be necessary, and he is ultimately the catalyst for the events that brought around Bec Noir and everything else. He did do those things, right now they are objectively /bad/ things, but I think there is more to play. I felt I should make this clear, I am not saying he is a 100% good guy, just that he is NOT morally black and white and there is still a chance for him.

My arguments:

1) If Gamzee kills everyone, it completely invalidates Karkat's 5x Combo Showdown character arc with the shoosh pap. Hussie placed pretty heavy importance on it, and it also states afterwards that:

"For the Knight looked upon his Bard all acting up and completely losing his shit and he did resolve to calmeth his juggalo ass right the fuck down. And so calmed down his juggalo ass was and would continueth to be for all time."

Karkat is a very important character in homestuck, and Gamzee is entwined with him - the shooshpap demonstrated an important part of Karkat's character, and if Gamzee were to be actively helping Lord English to kill everyone, it's pretty much the same morally as killing everyone on his /own/, especially if he is knowingly doing it.

In my eyes, that is sending a message that Karkat's character arc is ultimately null and void; touching at the time, but ultimately useless and removing nearly all of the meaning of the occurrence in the first place.

It could still happen but I just genuinely feel like it would be a waste of a really interesting end to that plot arc.

**ADDENDUM**: This is based on a reply I had, but as for Gamzee only caring about Karkat, my feelings is as creepy and ambiguously moral as Gamzee can be, he _is_ very empathetic towards his friend, he shows this clearly while he is under the influence of sopor and I highly doubt that that suddenly changed once he calmed down (and no, calm does not equate to sanity, I headcanon that Gamzee can have pretty violent mood swings between who he used to be/wants to be, and the highblood/his previous calling pretty hard.)

Drawing hints from the only other solid (and seen) Moirailliegence that didn't have effects from redder leanings setting it off balance (Eridan + Fef, to a lesser extent Vriska + Kanaya) which would be Nepeta and Equius, Equius (the aggressive side) shows very serious urges to protect Nepeta as much as he can since in a way, she likely acts as a life line to him in keeping him calm, and while over protection was likely one of his (Equius) personal malfunctions, Gamzee, whose calm also depends on Karkat, would likely want to protect him also.

Physical pain is not the only kind of pain that can cause serious damage, and Gamzee comforted/wanted to comfort Karkat through _two_deaths of friends to know that if he were to kill all of Karkat's friends, especially permanently, he would be emotionally devastating Karkat in likely a _very_ permanent way. This would completely destroy the foundation of their Moirailligence, and be an act of ultimate betrayal to the troll I believe he obviously cares a lot about.

2) During his freak out, he ended up rejecting the Mirthful Messiahs as anyone but _himself_:

TC: and now i'm the last one, so i finally motherfuckin understand.  
TC: I FINALLY GOT MY MOTHERFUCKING UNDERSTAND ON TO WHO THE MIRTHFUL MESSIAHS ARE.  
TC: they were always both me. :o)  
TC: AND ALSO MOTHERFUCKING ME. Do:

At the time he contacted Karkat of all people, and I personally believe his attempts to contact Karkat were a cry for help, one that Karkat completely screwed the pooch on.

This point, I'll admit, is kind of nebulous, because at this point we don't know exactly /why/ he killed Equius and Nepeta - I honestly don't think he fully understands it either other then an instinctual need to subjugglate and act on his indigo blooded urges, but I do feel it served a purpose, or rather, will in the future.

However at this time he outright rejected a centerpoint in his old religion, and in his chatlog with Dave here (prior to contacting Karkat, nook deep in his freakout): He further describes how he pretty much gave up on his religion.

Assuming Kurloz muted himself while still alive since Meulin was deaf prior to death, that would mean that Kurloz payed worship to the Mirthful Messiahs in Beforus, which arguably occurred long before (wishy washy due to timeline shenanigans) - so it's kind of a long standing religion apparently celebrating LE as the messiahs, one which Gamzee rejects _twice_ post freakout.

This brings me to point dun dun dun

3) Because of how Gamzee rejected the Mirthful Messiahs, and how Kurloz relates them to Lord English/Caliborn/Calicorn, when Gamzee responds to Kurloz religious fervour towards what he (Kurloz) perceives as a shared religion, Gamzee is probably a bit sick of hearing about that shit he doesn't believe in anymore.

Of course, he's not going to tell Kurloz that. He's used people before in the past (Terezi and Vriska) so who is to say he isn't doing that again?

Novatoast ( ) also brings up an EXCELLENT point:

It really pings as off to me that Gamzee is so short with Kurloz when in the height of his murder mode he's not only asking Karkat to split elixirs with him but also was pretty chummy towards Dave who pissed him off in the first place! Gamzee seemed to treat Kurloz like he did Equius more than part of his juggalo family. Which, if you know anything about ICP you would know that juggalo family is rated over everyone else. (and apolo if you haven't heard anything of ICP besides maybe Miracles, I reccomend "Homies" here)

4) Gamzee blotted a lot of information about himself from the book Rose wrote with Equius' blood, a book that Calliope (and by extent) Caliborn also had access to. I'll leave it at that.

5) Holy shit is the "GAMZEE IS EVIL" heavy handed. This isn't anything really back-upable with proof since it's my personal feelings, but compared to what I've perceived in some of Hussie's earlier story telling, this current trend is just holy shit really heavy handed on the LOOK HE'S EVIL to the point where I think it might be a red herring in the manner of withholding information to make the reader assume one thing or another. To me it looks like it's being painted on kind of thick, but idk if I am alone in that or not.

6) Okay, more outside of Homestuck but still rather telling stuff! in my opinion! Much of this is thanks to **novatoast**( .com) who brought it to my attention so they are the brilliance behind this part, wholly them! I'm just adding in some of my thoughts too. Starting with the quotes from Andrew Hussie that Nova showed me from some of his old formspring questions:

Quotes taken from: u/40585720/Combined_Formspring_Web_

"Whistles was a graphic novel I did years ago. It's another thing I've mined ideas from, which have specifically begun to show themselves lately with Gamzee's turn. Whistles was about a clown in a circus who was as sweet as could be. He loved his ringmaster, in spite of the fact that the master was a cannibal and a tyrant who attempted to kill him. When the circus rebelled against the master and beat him, Whistles flipped out, killed a lot of people, and absconded with the master into the desert. (nice clown going murderous is obviously what Gamzee imported from this) The recurring theme throughout the whole comic is that every time Whistles has a chance to do the right thing and rebel against his evil master, he can't overcome his loyalty to him. To the point where he offers his starving master his own severed arm to eat. The whole thing is darkly humorous and pretty messed up…"

Sounds pretty familiar already, yeah? Well the second part is what interests me the most:

"I get asked sometimes if I will make book 2, the conclusion of Whistles. The answer is, probably not. I did plan on giving Whistles a heroic end. I always intended for him to overcome his obsession with his master."

Hussie has already admitted to drawing from Whistles for Gamzee, and who is to say that Gamzee won't end up being the spiritual successor to Whistles, and allowing for Whistles to finish the story he otherwise wouldn't be able to. Further interesting notes from the formspring:

For what it's worth, I did finish a draft of book 2's first chapter. It introduces a new villain named Sugarshoe who is, get this, another insane clown! If you read through this and recent HS events, it may seem like I'm obsessed with this kind of thing. Not really. Like I said, I just borrow heavily from myself.

Here not only does Hussie talk about a new insane clown who is a villain (Kurloz, I'm looking at you bro), but he also admits to borrowing heavily from himself. Like, this is all kind of nebulous likely circumstantial stuff, but we'll see. Novatoast (who is and will always be a boss) made another thing about this here:  
post/24287338216/ah-i-did-plan-on-giving-whistles-a-heroic-end-i  
And made this interesting note in skype:

haha. though with that post I made it was before we saw Caliborn chew off his own leg so I cut out the "cannibal master" line. I didn't expect Hussie to do that, haha

Also, another snippet from The Starlight Calliope that Nova pointed out to me, complete with Nova's own words:

Grumblin: Nevertheless, you have shown wonderful restraint, Whistles. You should be proud.  
Whistles: Really? Thank you!  
Grumblin: Perhaps you are not to blame for your prior mistakes. I would posit you have become tainted by having such a nefarious role model. He has corrupted your pure mind, and maybe this alone was his greatest crime of all. This is your first step, Whistles, toward a life of purity and merit. Henceforth, I shall be your guide.  
Whistles: Ok!

Nova: (from a random Whistles page someone posted a while ago. haha, Hussie's wild clowns just seem to need moirails.)

Okay, big thanks again to novatoast for bringing this stuff to my attention and like, being wholly responsible for this last point. The thoughts are my own unless otherwise noted, but nova is the true genius here.

I also just purchased Whistles: The Starlight Calliope (you can get it here: The-Starlight-Calliope-Whistles-Book/dp/159362073X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1348603375&sr=8-1&keywords=The+Starlight+Calliope ) not only because it looks awesome (there's previews online) but to see if maybe there are any other correlations. YES MY OBSESSION RUNS THIS DEEP. Take my money, Andrew.

**So in conclusion**:

I believe Gamzee is a renegade agent of Lord English; he's rejected his prior allegiance to his religion and is now acting under his /own/ command, even if he doesn't quite understand/have a plan due to his capricious nature - he's doing what feels right. I think he'll probably do more things that could be considered "bad", but I think in the end it would be set up in the favour of the greater good. If his Moiraillegiance is on the level with Karkat (he showed pretty heavy what I perceived to be pale leanings towards Karkat prior to his freakout), it would be in his best interest to /protect/ Karkat and help him. He's still unstable so whether or not that will succeed remains to be seen, but… My ideal situation is somehow he is able to set things up to backstab Lord English (Kurloz has the Juju breaker, Gamzee is in cahoots with Kurloz and thus has access to the Juju breaker) and allow everyone to "win", thus solidifying Karkat's earlier character arc and not (in my opinion) wasting what character development of Gamzee we have.

Him just being a big bad feels far too simple to me, not with the clues strewn about.

Also, I admittedly love the idea of someone who is technically a protagonist who does CREEPY AS FUCK and morally grey/objectivelybad things for the sake of the greater good. It's delicious and seen so rarely. :o(

WILDCARDS:

**1) What about the codtier?!**  
I don't know, remains to be seen.

**2) The prototyping?**  
Could be good or bad, we'll see. With time shenanigans there is no telling; he may have saved the ghosts of the alpha timelines from destruction at the hands of lord english, and Vriska's desire to 8r8k shit could end up being a VERY good thing.

**2) WHY ARE HIS SCARS PURPLE TIME OMG?!**  
I use this trick personally in Capricious Queries ( ) of making his scars still purple as in scabbed over and healing (not bleeding) to show how little time has passed since the freak out; he's still fresh in his instability. This whole dream bubble thing could be occurring pretty early on in the timeline as such.

**3) What about Lil Cal?**  
I'm not sure; it depends on your view. I almost question whether or not Lil Cal is truly a machination of Evil. In the Fondly Regarding the events it was when Jade's kernel sprite was prototyped with her dead dreamself, which eventually lead to giving her ridiculously good powers - that important moment could have been having the powers of a first guardian brought onto their side (though green stuff etc who knows it might work in the Alpha session), so whether or not Gamzee is the important character or Lil Cal is, the event is still important and it could be construed as an, in the long run, very important thing for the good guys. I'm fuzzy on this. I suck at theorycrafting really.

OKAY I AM DONE WAXING ON ABOUT THIS PHEW.

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**Spoiler alart: BWAHHAAHAAA with the new updates. Of course he'd do that to us. Sometimes I feel I'm Bloo from that one episode of Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends where he's following the crazy imaginative girl (Goo) and giggling insanely at all the neat shit she comes up with. **

Note: Thanks Maria! I'm glad I helped! 80D

Note: Thanks Xerox and VampKimi! I'm glad you have been enjoying the story! I'll try not to be too long with an update.

Note: Thanks Xerox, again, and I look forward to the feedback!

Note: Thanks to TheNamelessAnon, I'm really glad you enjoyed the story so far! You've got a point in that Gamzers (Idk I just call him that in my head) is more or less still open-ended, and Hussie likes to turn the plot on it's ear faster than one can know their ass from a teacup, so yeah. There's hope, but damn if I'm not a pessimist. And BAHAHAAA about the three legged race. It would be hilarious. =)

Note: Ed, thank you so much for the advice, I really, really appreciate it. Like woah. Sollux, I assume? Totally want to read what you wrote! Send a link! =o) Honestly, I'm really rooting for Gamzee being harmless before the game as well, and his actions are a result of his breakdown, but the way the puzzle pieces fell...well...it makes me wonder. And I wouldn't be a proper pessimist if I didn't think of all the horrible possibilities. And it should be noted that Meenah's, Aranea's, and Kankri's lusii haven't been spotted, either, but that may be because they hadn't died. Or Hussie didn't care, and wasn't trying to make a point with the first flash. Either way, all arrows point to Kurloz being a squicky dude. Even Aranea, who can know so much and so little at the same time, is aware of it.


	50. And now back to scheduled programming

Author's note: Sorry for the lengthy wait for an update. Got a little blocked. Took a break and wrote some smut. All better. 80D!

Note: Thanks to Curiously-Insane for the feedback on my theories as well as your wonderfully insightful ones. Magical codpieces are awesome. And that is all that needs to be said. B)

Note: thank you Yumi, I will try to keep you swooning!

Note: Thanks VampKimi! I really appreciate the advice!

Note: Thanks to Sorrow the Silver Dragon!: I really appreciate the offer, and I'm totes flattered/excited! And thanks for the advice!

* * *

We trade easy banter while we eat, mostly about nothing in particular. Ghosts of worry and discontent have taken residence in Gamzee's face, but damn if he isn't trying to cover it up. His smile is a little weaker, laughs more melancholy. Gog. Sad clowns are the worst. I feel so guilty, but...it's just so hard to think about those awful, dark, and terrifying moments without losing it. Yeah yeah, bluh bluh, talk about it you'll feel better. Tell that to my shitty therapists back on Earth. He asks a question, and I shake myself out of my head. "Sorry, Gamz. What did you say?"

He studies the table in front of him like it holds the answers to the universe, "'S okay, miracle sister. What I got my squawk on was wondering...wondering if you thought it was near time to get me off the pills and tea and shit." Well. That was out of no-where. I scoot a little closer, trying to scan his face under the mess of curls obscuring it. Jegus, it's like trying to see through a Chia pet. "What brings this on, might I ask?" He still won't look at me.

Now I'm worried. "Just, you know, thinking on how much better I been feeling, is all. Got it like I ain't at my level-best with it floating around in my hemojuice." Trying, and failing, to tuck some hair behind his ear, I lean in, turning his chin to me. His eyes are turned down, much like his chagrined grimace."Gamzee." I peck him on the nose. A little grin blossoms like a melting snowflake at the corner of his mouth before settling back to a frown. Wow I've really fucked up.

Damage control. Alart Alart! "Hey. You. The funny cute guy in the makeup." A brow quirks up. "Who I rather enjoy kissing. A great deal." His nose wrinkles in a snort of a laugh. It's adorable. I say the last bullet in my arsenal quietly, "Matespirit of mine." That gets his attention. His brows shoot up, eyes as big as moons look up at me in shock. My lips curl in victory. "That's better. Listen, please." He nods mutely. "As much as I'd like to say that everything is fine, and you're ready for that, I can't." His shoulders slump as I hurry on. "It does not make me think less of you. I'm taking medicine too. The fact you must maintain it for the time being does not make me feel as if I cannot trust you with my secrets." He sags into his chair a little as he turns to face me. Bingo.

Gamzee fiddles for a second before speaking, as if conflicted. He takes a shaky breath, "But you ain't about to tell a motherfucker what's got you all running scared in here." He taps a finger lightly on my chest, above my heart. "I can hear alla that fear-noise running through you like a motherfucking song. You play it loud enough what to keep motherfuckers out. Shakes the walls of your pan sometimes it's got so much rude on. When I take those friendly little pills and sip on that tea, I can't near tell what all is has you wound up. Just hear it whispering, can't be getting any helping on. Like to drive a brother crazy. Er. Crazier." A jagged frown/grin twinges his face as he turns away again, drumming on his thigh in frustration. It still surprises me how accurate he can be. Wait. He can 'hear' fear? What the fresh hell is this. Remembering earlier, I'm suddenly glad I made sure he took his pills today.

I opt for the calm approach, as much as one can pull that off with raw nerves. Enclosing his nearest hand in mine, I say something Karkat told me was 'stupid romantic' for trolls, "Heart of my heart." The drumming stops mid stroke as a sidelong look glowers at me. Fine. He's not purchasing sappy bullshit right now. I keep going. "I appreciate, truly, you wish to assist me with that which troubles me." He sighs, puffing up air to blow away errant hair from his forehead, "But?" Heh. He said butt. No! Bad time to laugh! "But, I'd like to do that at my own pace. We've discussed taking things slowly before, and if I remember correctly, you were quite amenable to it." He harrumphs a little, but doesn't pull away. I move until our sides are touching from shoulder to hip, putting one arm around his waist and squeezing. Well, his armpit to my shoulder to hip anyway, tall damn bastard. Gamzee lets go, looping his arm automatically around me. To be honest, I don't think I've gotten this close without the intention of kissing him for quite some time. He's not in a hurry to talk, anyway, still staring down with a decidedly uncharacteristic look of upset.

It gives me time to really look, intently, at the planes of his features. I never noticed how long his lashes were, dark and thick, framing his eyes with a perfect symmetry. A black little forest surrounding the limpid pools of his eyes. The purple of his eyes even look darker in his harried state. On closer inspection, it doesn't look like he's been sleeping well. Why hasn't he said anything? It doesn't help that his grey/white makeup obscures a good deal of it. I follow the line of his nose, noting the placement of his scars, the oblong curve of his nostrils, down past his septum... He's chewing at his lips, which aren't voluptuous and curvy, by any means, but...they aren't ridiculously thin either. They have their own softness, upper lip arching delicately under his nose to form a curving v, lower with just enough pout...gah. He's kind of fucking loveable. Er. Lovely. Definitely lovely. My heart is pounding a little faster than it should. I've been so busy trying to fix him...I never really thought about...how I felt.

I want him worse than a burning man wants a lake to jump into. That's the easy part. Squashing my thighs together, I try desperately to calm down my hormone-crazed tatas and squirm, feeling uncomfortable in my seat. Even if I can't follow through on that, yet. His perfectly smoochable lips twitch into a small smirk. "That ain't fair none, either." Yeah no shit. It's not fair you're that hot. He glances over at my unasked question, a teasing bemusement blossoming, "Thinking naughtylike right next to a brother." Christ. I can only imagine the gross miasma I'm putting off. I try to back away hastily, but his arm is a band of iron, pulling me back. I mutter my question into the shoulder I'm currently mashed against. "I thought you could only hear fear?" Struggling out enough to a. breathe, and b. see his response, he smiles smugly and thumbs the side of his nose. "Nose knows, baby girl." Gog almighty. "Can't get away with anything, can I?" The grin widens, "Nope."

Gah. Distractions, I have them. Still haven't answered my own question. How do I, Rose LaLonde, feel about this particular troll? Yes, I'm ridonkulously attracted to him. Simple science. But...the other stuff? That I don't really like thinking about? He's still waiting me out, sad clown smile pasted on. Velvet canvasses wait to be adorned with its visage. As if sensing the battle in my head, he squeezes, humming the little songs to relax me. Something about honey, bees...and Faygo? I throw myself into attempting to straighten the snarl of my thoughts. Well. I. Fuck. I already know I'd lose my shit if I lost him. That's been proved. I enjoy being around him. He makes me laugh, even when I feel like I'm about to break. He's patient. Obviously. He has all the patience. My heart likes to do a panicked little dance in my chest when I see him, like I've finished running a marathon and shot up with club soda at the same time. Not because I'm flustered into some uguu dumbassery, but more like, omg I can't believe he wants to see me. All right. Maybe that is uguu. Your pie-hole. Shut. It. I love the way one of his big artist/fighter contradiction hands can fold over both of my own. The way he tilts his head when he doesn't understand what I'm saying is adorable. How he snores a little when he sleeps. That shy, sweet smile he gives me when I say something to make him blush. How he cups my chin to drop soft kisses on my nose and lips when no-one's looking. Realization hits me like the receding tide before a rogue wave. Fuck me. I'm in love with a purple fairy-troll.

It kind of freaks me out a little, but...not really. I wouldn't be trying this hard to help if I didn't. Hell. It makes sense. The knot of worry in my chest eases a bit. Have I ever said it out loud? I try to remember, but, I don't think so. Is that what he's waiting for? Only one way to find out. Stupid overtaking my brain in a torrent, I blurt, "Have I ever mentioned how much I love you, Mr. Makara?" Wow. Classy LaLonde. You should start an advice column on how to be smooth. The drumming of his fingers stop. The songs stop, silenced by a cessation of breath. I have just said the dumbest thing ever. It echoes through paradox space, on a receiver that is labeled, "Do not repeat this mistake, ever."

He mumbles something to the effect of 'fuck this,' while scooting back his chair and swinging me onto his lap. It makes me squeal with a giggle, because, come on, being hefted like that is awesome. Giving me a serious look, he asks,"Could you get your repeat on to which you just all said? A brother's aurals didn't quite get the chance to appreciate that sound you was making." What, the giggle? No, no, the I love you, dumpass. Seriously. How do you remember to breathe sometimes? My voice quavers a little, "Ah, I love you?" I can't help turning the end of the sentence into a question. He studies my face and sighs like he's been holding his breath for months. Maybe he has. "Shit. Had this motherfucker right here thinking you was all embarrassed of him." Huh? Not the response I expected.

I replay tonight's activities in my head. Batting away his advances. Freezing up and crying when he kisses me in public. Walking away. Not explaining myself. Intentionally putting distance between us. (Not now, mind, but...) Well, Jegus dick. I'd think that too. Gogs of the Void I'm an idiot. "Hardly, Gamzee. There is nothing for me to be ashamed of. I care deeply for you and I don't particularly care who knows it. I'm sorry if that wasn't clear, it certainly wasn't my intention. I'm not very adept at...expressing myself, sometimes." Cupping his head between my palms, I bonk my forehead against his with a playful grin. He promptly gives me the raspberry. Cute jerk. He's all sincerity when he speaks next, "Heart's singing a motherfucking song for how much I got my loving on for you, you don't even know." Quaking palms cover my own as the burning hot coals that have replaced his eyes regard me. Gamzee's voice is a timorous whisper, "Love you, Rose." Okay. Yeah. I'm the one doing the surprise needy kissing now. It's me. I smell garlic.


	51. Chapter 51

Surprise kisses end badly when Karkat stomps into the room. Thanks. Love it. Glancing in our direction, he mutters, "Oh for Chrissake," before making his way to the fridge. I'm not too proud to admit I'm snorting into Gamzee's shirt in an uncontrolled fit of laughter. With his face buried in my hair, muted honking joins my chorus of giggles. After a minute or two, our mirth subsides, and the only sound left in the kitchen is clanking and rustling in the refrigerator. Something is missing from this encounter. Oh, right. Yelling. Looking conspiratorially over to Gamzee, I whisper, "Since when does he not screech at us for kissing in public? I feel a bit let-down, his invective is always so colorful." He shrugs, "Ain't been remembering any time of my bro not having a yell in his protein-chute.", but his features have taken on a concerned air. Releasing me with a kiss on the lips and gentle urging to stand, he calls over to Karkat, "Hey pale brother, what the motherfuck is up?"

Karkles freezes mid-rustle, not turning to look at us. "Nothing, shitstain." Yeah. Right. We both look at each other like our bullshit-o-meters have exploded, and we are not impressed by the results. Walking in tandem over to him, we surround our grumpy interloper. I try to stay a few respectful feet away, on account of my gross lady miasma. Gamzee drapes himself over the door, looking his friend over speculatively. "Yo, palebro. Don't think it's nothing." He pokes Karkat in the side with a 'give me your secrets' stare, "Come on, brother. Can't be a proper 'rail if you don't get your squawk on at a motherfucker."

The source of his inquest shakes with a little sob, turning away from him and glaring at me. "I said. It's nothing." Oh. Maybe I should go. "Perhaps I should leave the two of you alone?" Karkat crosses his arms with a barely there nod, but Gamzee is quick to contradict. "Naw, Rosesis. Clade sticks together." Walking around the barrier between himself and Karkles, he loops an arm around his shoulders and guides him back to the island, pulling up a stool. With zealous cheer Gamzee asks, "What's got my fun-sized brother all up in knots?" Kar leans his head between his hands and mumbles a response. Wow. This is eerie. Gamzee is the king of wheedling feels and information out of stubborn people. The mumbles become a quiet tirade, and Gamzee mimes over to me to get Karkat some food. Sure. Why not. It's not like it's weird to watch an almost gesture by gesture replay of what happened a few hours ago to me. Not at all.

I turn away from the scene of deja-vu, grabbing the still-warm Tangine out of the crisper. Why Gamzee put it there, I have no idea. Taking out enough to fill a bowl, I put the rest back into it's former lodging place, because why break a trend. The microwave hums to life, almost obscuring Karkat's pained voice, "They flipped red." I don't have to ask who "they" are, I know Karkat's been all sorts of wonky about the relationship between Dave and Rezi. But what the hell does flipping red mean? Gamzee catches my quizzical expression, framing a heart with his hands. Oh. OH. Poor bastard. It's no fun to have unrequited feelings. The bowl of Tangine steams little ghost tendrils into nothingness as I cautiously approach, unwilling to interrupt the feelings parade. Jam. Whatever. Sliding the bowl under his nose, I press a spoon into (onto) his clenching fist. "Fuck, LaLonde, you're not my lusus. Piss off." I am Jack's absolute lack of surprise. Even his insults are ringing hollow, defeat and misery plain in every syllable.

"Karkat." Fuck why did I talk? He looks up at me, feigned anger barely covering up the hot mess he is. Gamzee throws me a look of caution, a wordless warning to be kind. "It would be foolish of me to tell you it gets better over time. Or that there are others." A muted whimper escapes from the barrier of arms in front of Karkat's face. Oh, fuck respecting my miasma radius. I just float over the counter, landing lightly beside Kar and place a hand on his shoulder. It reminds me of when he sought to comfort me, all those months ago. Time to repay the kindness. "Truly, there is never a time more devastating when one you've set your heart on decides to choose another." A tremor of a sigh works through him.

"But. That does not lessen your worth as a person. I have watched you push, pull, shout, and generally ream out everyone on this meteor out of the goodness of your heart. I've come to understand that's how you show you care. Do not let your doubt and self-loathing tell you that you are anything less than the kind, caring, and wonderful person you are." Sitting up, he snuffles a little into the steam of the food below his nose before speaking. "Troll." My brows furrow. "What?" He looks up to give me a weak sardonic look. "Troll, dumbass." Oh, right. "Sorry, Mr. Vantas! How dare I call you anything but the superior race that you are! My deepest apologies." I mockingly pantomime a courteous bow over my enormities.

Karkat gives a dry bark of a laugh. "Gog you two are a clusterfuck. Thanks." Gamzee squeezes him into a tight hug, "Aww my palebro, what else is us motherfuckers here for?" He glances down at the untouched food with a frown, "Now get your chow on before I break out the steam-powered rail vehicle and force feed your ass." Karkat stabs the food with a little bit of force, hurriedly shoveling it into his mouth. "Oh my gog no. Please never mention that again. I think I died a little inside."

As he eats, Gamzee pulls the narrative of what set Karkat off out of him, inch by inch. Karkat had been on his way to the computer lab to start a new memo about something or other, chores, I think, (good idea!) when a squeal and clatter down the hallway got his attention. Naturally, he thought the worst, running to the source, and instead of being greeted with a vision of Gamzee murdering someone, he walked in on Terezi swooning into Dave's arms in a 'fucking ridiculous' sweeping kiss. Poor guy. It's kinda fascinating to watch Gamzee work out the details and comfort his friend. Perhaps a bit unsettling. Every word, sigh, and touch has meaning, a purpose and directive. I wonder why I'd never noticed before. His gaze is intent and intelligent, probing, even. He would have made a good therapist, if that was a thing on his planet. I shudder internally at what might have been if he remained evil. A manipulator of that caliber can do terrible things. Had done terrible things. Wow. I just told him I loved him.

Looking at him now, doubt and fear seep into my bones. He's absolutely masterful at getting what he wants out of Karkat. All questions and pauses eventually get the desired response. Kar doesn't even seem to realize Gamzee is doing it. Like I hadn't. It shoots me through with cold, doused in a bucket of water from the deepest part of the Arctic. The source of my discomfort glances up, probably feeling the rush of my nerves. I wave him off, which earns me a squinting, thoughtful gaze, but his attention is quickly recaptured by a fresh wave of Karkat's tears. He returns to stroking and petting reassurance into his 'palest motherfucking brother.'

Is my luck really that awful? Could it be that nothing he's ever said or done is even real? A calculated manipulation? To what end? I carefully tamp down every nervous tic and twitch, to avoid scrutiny. Karkat mutters into Gamzee's ear, and he nods in response. "Hey miracle-sister?" I look up from my study of the counter, face a mask of glass, "Yes?" He notices, but chooses not to say anything. Add perceptive to the growing list of my discomfit. "Gonna get our clear out of here, me and Karbro. Got some more jamming to do. You cool?" Hah. I raise an eyebrow, attempting to imitate my formally chilly demeanor. "Like ice. Again, I do hope you feel better, Karkat." Karkles sniffs and mumbles thanks in my general direction as Gamzee guides him out of the room. I pick up the dishes and ignore the glance of unease Gamz sends my way as he leaves the room.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Oh my fucking shit. How could I have been so blind? Am I really that stupid schoolgirl in the hentai that doesn't see what's coming until it's too late, and then tentacles are everywhere?! Oh shit. Oh my life. Fuck it. In my distraction, a glass falls out of my hand, shattering in the basin. It's unnoticed until I cut my hand reaching for a fork under a particularly vicious hunk of the former sand. Fuck me twice with a rusty nail. Spitting out curses with vehemence, I pull a medical kit out of my sylladex, having placed it there at Kanaya's insistence after my rather unfortunate meeting with the corner of a table. And the subsequent fever that made me cuddle a half naked troll. Whom I refuse to think about. At this moment. Yeah. Right. Focus. Looking down at the now messy as a pig stuck in the throat in the hellish bowels of Georgia hand of mine, I clean out the wound while spouting particularly creative invective. I'm not even paying attention to what I'm saying. Something like 'asstitsbuttfuckhairydogassho lerefriedcuntmonsters.' I think. Regardless, I take care to remove all glass, pouring peroxide over the area, and dab iodine over the skin around the cut. It's quite small, considering the shit-ton of blood it expelled. An inch long, a few millimeters deep, if anything. Right over the heart line on my palm. Hilarious, universe. Absolutely hilarious. Look at all the wonderful, shiny, new fuck yous you've won.

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Note: Thank you, anonymous guest! I'm glad I was able to make your day a bit more joyful! And bahahaaa I'm not giving away any secrets! yet.


	52. Chapter 52

**Author's note: _Italicized_ words are more or less words spoken in body language, not out loud.**

Note: thanks Maria! I'm glad I hit the mark!

Note: Thanks Kimi! Just you wait, I'll keep you dancing!

Note: Thanks Moonlit Mage! I'm glad you've enjoyed it so far!

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I give up on the dishes, distantly dousing them so my diluted blood runs down the drain. I'm over-thinking this. I'm irrational. There is no way someone could be that absolutely devious and not trigger my second Sight. If they were capable, some crap psychic abilities I've got, then. That would be my luck, considering. I'm freaking out, but not enough to warrant sitting down on the floor and mindlessly rocking. At least not yet. Floating out of the now empty kitchen with no real direction, I think furiously.

If he were capable of pulling the wool over all of our eyes, there would still be some hint for at least Terezi or I. The problem is...Terezi almost never sees him. Is it necessary for them to be in the same room? I see him all of the time, obviously, but what if I've blinded myself by emotion? Become too attached to truly be objective? The unnerving truth of that thought sinks in, painfully so. Oh gog. What have I done? Have I invited the true death of us all? My head bonks against something hard. Oh. The airlock door. I guess getting out of the lab wouldn't be a bad idea.

Heading to my Grimdark crater for safety's sake isn't a terrible plan. The way the slag of the meteor cooled to a glass-like surface is actually pretty neat. Anxiety presses on my mind, but not so much that I'm not in control of myself. I breathe deeply and think as I land in lotus-position in the center. The glass's frostiness is jarring, though not unbearable. I'm reflected in the thousands of imperfections in the crater's glassy surface, an endless parade of distorted Rose LaLondes. I turn my thoughts inward. It is clear he is capable of manipulating others to extract information and emotions. As am I.

I've yet to see malicious intent in his actions or words. But that does not mean they are not there. I cannot read minds. Pushing with my Sight on the matter is pointless. All I see is the endgame, the final battle, the awful screaming, slathered with a sense of completion and catharsis. It's positive, but I cannot see the combatants. Not yet. We are not close enough to the final moment. Frustrated, I open my eyes, leaning back on my palms to stare into the Void. The glass steals heat from my palms greedily. The only discernible light is the break in paradox space. I wonder if it's effected the others in their travels.

The worry sits in the pit of my chest like a fattened frog, croaking, heavy, and refusing to be forgotten. Rubbing at the source of pain and sighing, I try to focus again. According to Kanaya, Gamzee's episode was brought on by Dave's revelation of the ICP. I've deduced, by sideways conversation, that his treatment as a child, drug addiction, the loss of Tavros, and the stress of the game itself also contributed to the triggering factors prior to the incident. What else is there? There's something missing. His refusal to speak about the incident itself isn't helping.

Karkat has told me that indigobloods and up are naturally violent, it's bred into them. It's evident in Eridan's slaughter of two others, Feferi's killing of brains in Sollux's world, and Gamzee's outright murder of two other trolls on the meteor. Murder. I can't gloss that over. Though I kind of have been. Maybe Dave was right. Perhaps I've been filtering my vision through some bizarre kawaii voodoo glasses, inuring myself to the realities of our situation. Have I been a stupid schoolgirl excited about the first boy to look her way? Did he use that to his advantage?

Am I really that much of a fool? Yes, Kanaya and Terezi have also killed other trolls, but rightfully so. Terezi killed Vriska to make sure she did not bring the attentions of Jack Noir back to those left behind on the meteor. Kanaya killed Eridan to stop further bloodshed, seeing as he had killed both her and Feferi earlier, and was preparing to duel with Sollux to the death. Gamzee has no excuses for his behavior other than temporary insanity. Which was put to rest by shoosh paps. Supposedly. Pieces of the puzzle just won't fit together, no matter how desperately I shove. Without his discussion on the matter, I cannot be completely sure of his true intentions. My stomach roils in nausea. I suddenly do not wish to be alone. But I don't want to deal with trolls. At. All.

Which leaves me one insufferable prick of an alternative. Gritting my teeth, I pull out my husktop to message him. Preparing myself for a battle of wits, I press Send.

**TentacleTherapist has begun Pestering TurntechGodhead!**

TT: Good evening, brother mine. Are you terribly busy at this moment?

TurntechGodhead is idle!

TT: Oh. Well. When you have a moment, please pester me in return.

**TentacleTherapist has ceased pestering TurntechGodhead!**

Figures. He's probably busy studying xenobiology at the moment. Ew. I feel the need for brain-bleach. Pillowing my arms behind my head, I resign myself to staring blankly at the sky. Void? Hellish pit of Horrorterrors? It's almost fascinating that the break radiates different colors on an endless cycle. Gamzee would probably...fuck. No. Scumbag brain. Creeping cold steals around my insides, filling it with a squirmy sense of wrong. I could be exaggerating, over thinking nothing, but I cannot know for sure. I think that's what bothers me most.

My husktop dings, and I eagerly retrieve it to see if Dave has gotten back to me.

**TerminallyCapricious has begun pestering TentacleTherapist!**

Of course. Why does paradox space hate me? Why?

TC: HeY MiRaClE-SiS! GoT KarBrO AlL uP aNd TuCkEd In FoR sOmE MoSt WiCkEd ZzZz's! PoOr PaLeBrO gOt HiM a SiCk-NaStY sAd BuRnInG uP hIs InSiDes. JuSt WaNnA LeT HiM ReSt FoR a WhIlE. cAn'T bE aLl RuDe In My CuDdLeS, TaKiNg Up ThE PiLe N SnAtChInG Up HiS BuLb-ReSt. IfFeN yOu AiN't ToO bUsY, i'D bE aLl SoRts Of MoThErFuCkInG eXiTeD tO sEt ThEsE gAnDeR-bUlBs MiNe On A fInE cHiCa! ;0p!

My fingers hover worthlessly over the keyboard. I don't know how to respond. I could lie and just say I'm tired, but he might make his way to my room for 'awesome motherfucking cuddles.' He doesn't need to know I'm out in the middle of nowhere ruminating on the state of his moral character. He could either assuage my fears with truth, falsehood, or very possibly go on another rampage. There are too many unknowns. I finally start to reply in negative when I see I'm saved by his "TC is Typing..."

TC: NeVeR yOu MiNd, BaBy-GiRl. KaRbRo JuSt WoKe Up NeEdInG hImSeLf SoMe HaRdCoRe TlC. I'lL SeE YoU ToMoRrOw, K?

TC: Heart sings for ya, Rosesis! 80D

TT: As does mine, heart of my heart.

TC: HoNk HoNk HoNk! 80D 80D 80D! Love you sister!

**TerminallyCapricious has ceased pestering TentacleTherapist!**

I feel mildly guilty about typing in the sappy stuff, but if I'm to keep up guises...I guess it's okay. Dave is still idle, the blond-haired jerk. Setting the computer aside, I lie back again, closing my eyes. No matter how I re-arrange the information, there are no satisfactory results. It's frustrating. Visions of possible futures flick across my inner eye. Death and turmoil, triumph and victory all bump and gambol over one another like excited puppies attempting to attract attention. Some are stronger than others, mind. Many visions have something or other to do with Dave entering the final battle are the strongest, but after the battle...I see nothing. I don't know if that's because the game is over, and I lose my god-like powers, or if it means that we ultimately fail in our objectives. Nothing is clear and absolute in paradox space. Finally my husktop dings.

**TurntechGodhead has begun pestering TentacleTherapist!**

TG: Yo Rose. What's up? Got some more visions of horrifying monsters for me?

TT: Hardly.

TG: Right. Well? Don't leave me hanging.

TT: Do you have a moment to spare to speak with me?

TG: Obviously not. Because clearly my time is being eaten up right now.

TG: This conversation is totally imaginary.

TT: Perhaps I should have clarified. Do you have a moment to speak with me ^in person?^

TG: Clarification is a wonderful thing.

TG: Like seeing the sun for the first time after a month of shitty rain.

TG: I can see clearly, Rose. Now that the rain is gone.

TG: And yes. That's fine. Where are you?

TT: At the Grim Dark crater.

TG: …

TG: Are you currently Grim-Darking?

TG: Is there some Grimdarkness that I should be aware of?

TG: Will being in your personal radius peel the skin off my bones?

TT: No. None of those things have/will happen/ed.

TT: You need to stop playing Silent Hill so much.

TG: I can't help it if I love those scalene triangle bastards.

TG: Even if they can't carry their swords properly.

TG: I mean, come on. They are clearly crazy anime sword masters.

TG: Those assholes can heft a five mile sword and scream their heads off about how this isn't even their 'final form.'

TG: So pick up your damn shit, lazy asswipe.

TT: Are you done fangirling?

TG: Striders are too cool for key-mashing, LaLonde. I'll be right there.

**TurntechGodhead has ceased pestering TentacleTherapist!**

With a droll smile, I lean back to my former prostrate position and wait.

It isn't much of one, anyhow. With a flutter of action pajamas, Dave is seated comfortably next to me in the center of the crater. "Sup." Ah. Monosyllabic greetings. "Currently? I would estimate up is a bit too much of an abstract concept. There is no real direction in paradox space." He shrugs, which for him translates to 'duh.' "Clearly. Just like our conversation. Did you just call me out here for fun?" I let him see me roll my eyes. "No." I can feel his lazerlike focus razing over me. "But you're not ready to talk about it yet?" I pull myself to a sitting position. "Give me a moment." He snorts. "No prob. I'm made of time. Benighted in it." Smiling wryly I shove his shoulder. "Thanks."

Taking his focus off of me, he shifts closer, "Think you could magic up some chairs or some shit? Totally loving the Spartan feel of our little get-together under the horrorterrors of the Void and whatnot, but chairs. They would be nice." Hmm. Sure. Worth a try. Flicking my fingers experimentally, I heat some of the slag around us, twisting and shaping it until it resembles a wingback. Dave raises an eyebrow, more or less his version of jumping up and down with joy. "Nice." I take the complement as it is. As he plops down, he points imperiously at me. "Now get that creepy monster-loving ass up and into similar comfort." My smirk is a little pointed, "Stones in glass houses, brother. I'm quite sure I count girl aliens in the category of 'monster.'" Shrug. I turn from him, pulling a larger slab twisting until it until it resembles a chaise lounge, plopping it next to his wing-chair. Subtle hint achieved.

Settling myself in with apprehension, I dare to look over at my brother. He's...leaning forward. Worried. "So. RoLal. This isn't going to be a snark-fest, is it?" Jutting a lip defiantly, I sass back. "Surely it is. It wouldn't be a conversation if it wasn't." The answer doesn't satisfy him. "Right. I'm playing Freud to your sexually frustrated patient. Gotcha." The unspoken words are the ones that are important. _I'm listening_. It's strange how we communicate so much without verbal expression. The way he tilts his head, looking just so over his glasses lets me know he's concerned. Just like my noncommittal shrug and downturn of chin says '_wait_.' He does. It's eerie how much we understand one another.

Unwilling to start, but wanting to say something to ease the tension, I finally speak. "Do not think it's escaped my notice that you've been avoiding me." He frowns, '_I know that's not why I'm here but I'm going to humor you anyway_' clear on his features. "Yeah. About that." My silence='_Well it's about damn time you explained yourself._' With a '_gog why are you making me do this_' sigh, he begins. "Haven't been sleeping well. Rezi keeps trying to make me catch up." I roll a wrist, '_and? There's more_.' He shifts, '_I really have to talk about this_?' A subtle nod from me tells him, '_yes_.' Another sigh. "Fine. It's just, you know, the whole business with English. All I can think about is that stupid dream we talked about." I nod, "I remember." He keeps going, "Flying into the sun, dying, the singing. It's all repeating in my head like the soundtrack to the worst part of weebawoo hell."

I shudder in mock horror, "No! Not weebawoo hell!" He nods sagely, "The very same. They're tearing up free hug signs and beating up kids in fur-suits. Armageddon, I tell you." I telegraph with a small smile, '_I'm sorry you have to go through that_.' He twines his fingers in his lap, '_I know_.' Saving us from the awkward silence, I murmur in a soothing voice,"I know you are not comfortable with the idea of confronting English. But know this. You will have support. I am certain of it." '_I will be there for you_' He leans back, huffing his hair out from under his glasses. "Yeah. From a kid in a windsock, a shouty asshole, an adorable chick with dog ears, a blind girl, a shiny vamp, my floating ecto-sister, and a horny time-traveling clown. Who wears an honest to baby Jegus codpiece. Awesome." '_Thanks_.' Stretching my arms above me, I snark back, "I do declare, Mr. Strider, if you flatter I or our party any more I may get a case of the vapors." Dave shifts so his leg hangs over the side of the chair, angling his head so it's facing me. His drawl is a little thicker as he grouses, "I'll be sure to keep Vick's Vapor Rub on my person at all times. You ready to spill? Or do I have to shovel further down this pile of horseshit?" '_Can we stop talking about me? I'm totally comforted now. For reals. Please for the love of Gog stop._'

Pushing up his glasses with a sneer, "Speaking of horny clowns." '_Have you?_' I nod a negative. With a snort he teases, "You're in for a hell of a surprise. That's all I'm saying." '_Freaky troll dick express_.' I purse my lips, not really wanting to think about it. "I'm certain. Please contain your wisdom on the matter." '_For fuck's sake never talk about that again. Brothers and conversations about penis do not mix. Ever._' He takes the hint, but prods me in a new direction. "RoLal. You ever gonna get to the point? Or are we on some double-mobius reacharound of shame here?"

I roll back on the chaise so I'm looking Void-ward. I really don't want to read his reactions when I say what I brought him here for. Not yet, anyway. "I have some concerns." '_Jumping Jack Christmas I'm freaking out._' He pauses, probably in stuck in translation, "Yeah? About what?" Sliding my hand reflexively over the smooth side of the lounge, I start, a raging rapid-fire of words. "It's about Gamzee. I've recently noticed he's an accomplished manipulator, easily capable of extracting information, emotions, and behavior from others I thought was erstwhile out of his grasp. It makes me wonder if, instead of being healed by therapy and Karkat's moirallegiance, he's simply used them as tools in a ruse to exact some sort of plan." '_I'm really scared I fucked everything up._' Dave hmms and huhs in the right places, pausing when I pause. It doesn't seem like he's up to make fun of my fears. "Has he done anything that would, you know, tell us he's still evil?" I try to put my fidgety hands to rest on my stomach. "Not to my knowledge. However, I am not with him at all times, nor can I mind read. I cannot see his true motives. I just have a feeling that I'm missing something important." He whistles through his teeth. "You see anything with that powerful brain of yours? Other than what you've already told me about?" I mutter out a "No." He gets up and walks over, sitting on the lounger by my legs. I squeeze my eyes shut, '_holy shit I've done the dumbest thing ever._' "You told him you loved him." '_You're scared._' Dave says it as a statement. There's no question. I give a tiny nod.

He pats my legs awkwardly, talking at his feet. "You know, I mean. Fuck. Ro. I get it. I do. There's a lot of baggage in your trunk. I'm pretty sure that's par for course in our family. We put the fun in dysfunctional." I guess it's his turn for explosive verbal d-rhea. He keeps going, hunching over his lap, rushing his words a bit, "And I get the hesitation. Gamzee's kinda a weird dude. He was all about the Strider swag when we first hit the meteor, calling me his black brother. At first I thought it was funny, but then Terezi explained what it meant. Then I just kind of ignored it and stayed in Can Town. Asshole was hanging upside down in my room once, in the middle of the night. Creepy as hell. Then he just kinda...disappeared." Well then. My brows make friendly with the hole in the bottom of the universe. "You never thought to bring this information to light, why, exactly?" He looks over at me, nonplussed. _'Really? You have to ask?_' I lip shrug. '_yeah, kinda do_.' Pulling his hair and leaning back he grumbles, "I didn't say anything cuz I felt bad for him. Happy? I felt bad for breaking his brain and turning him into a murderclown. Karkat's right. Sad clowns are the fucking worst." It's probably the closest he'd ever get to apologizing to him. Dave's facade slips mightily, a downward tic of his lips a very telling indicator of '_wow I was really an asshole_.'

I pat his arm awkwardly, he's not exactly within easy reach. "Do not blame yourself. There were many other contributing factors to his downfall. According to Karkat, it would have occurred at some point anyway." Dave's poker face is officially gone, teeth worrying his bottom lip. "Yeah." '_I still feel guilty about it_.' Tugging his hand to mine, I thread my fingers through his and squeeze. '_I know. You'll be fine_.'

Shaking his head like he's swatting away an annoying insect, he turns his focus to me again. "This is totally not why we're here." I give him an unimpressed stare as he continues, "Did you ever think, oh just maybe, he learned how to get people to talk to him from you? Because you're the fucking master of head-shrinking? Pacific islanders would worship you if they knew of your existence, seriously." I stare off in thought. "Not particularly. I never thought people really paid all that much attention to it." '_I'm not used to people acknowledging me as worthwhile_.' He grins lopsidedly and pokes me. "If that freak has a brain between his ears, he'd use every waking moment to pay attention to you." Aww. My brother rocks. He keeps going in a teasing/serious tone, "Real talk. He's changed, and a lot of it is thanks to you. And some to that shouting asshole, but whatever. I mean, I don't think that whole weird juggalo thing is going away anytime soon, but the rest of it...definitely for the better." '_You're doing a great job_.' He stands again, "But if you really feel like something is wrong, keep an eye out. I'll do the same." '_Got your back, sis_.'

He looks over his shoulder at me, clearly weighing his next words. "Just. Don't jump to conclusions, or push him away. He's done a lot of good for you, too. Don't think I've missed those idiot grins you get when he walks in the room. They're like...call in the priest, holy shit I'm dying of cute smiles. Happiest I've seen you in a long time, by a long sight." '_You deserve to be happy_.' We both avert our eyes at the same time, blushing furiously. We are so not good at this. At least I now know it's a familial trait. I wonder how awkward admitting his feelings to Terezi was.


	53. Chapter 53

As per the chaos of my life, two things that shouldn't happen at the same time, do. I stare up into Gamzee's face with a bit of confusion, then sweep to the left, looking around the 'entertainment block,' noting the presence of all our friends. Dave and Karkat are quietly sniping at each other over something, and Terezi and Kanaya are avidly discussing how 'cool' their ancestors are. Funny thing, though. I don't remember getting in here, or laying down on Gamzee's lap, which is situated on this fuckoff ugly couch Terezi picked out. I don't know why I have a headache. Giving him a final look over, I swear I see a purple glow under his nearly-closed eyes. Shutting my own, I huff and rewind the events of the last few days in my mind. Purple bleeds into my memories.

Gamzee's dedication to his moirail is impressive, even going so far as to forgo our Thursday therapy session, citing Karkat's 'wicked achy pump biscuit' as his excuse. It is more than reasonable, considering. It's a damn shame Karkat has to go through this at all. If anything, out of all of us he deserves the most happiness in life, the poor bastard. That doesn't mean I'm still not worried about Gamzee's apparent ability to manipulate...but. Dave's advice haunts the multitudinous pathways of paranoia working their way through my mind. I blearily blink, looking around my dark room. Nothing really holds interest. Wasting two days doing nothing but worry is rather tiring, terribly boring, and tedious to keep up appearances. Scrubbing my face with a palm, I close my eyes to slip off into a fitful sleep. At least tomorrow I can finally hang out with Kan.

To say I am surprised when I'm roused the next morning by a kiss/nibble on my throat is an understatement. Shrieking, I push away the offender with a blast of magic, belatedly realizing it was probably just Gamzee. A piteous groan greets my ears, "Motherfuuuuck, miracle sister!" He's landed atop my latest sewing projects in the far corner of my room, just missing my wing chair. Hurrying over to his crumpled form, I'm struck by a very strong, but relatively familiar, scent. Musk. Huh. Maybe he didn't shower the night before? Another whine pulls me out of my musing, "Damn, girl. Just getting some friendly on. No need to throw a motherfucker round like a ragdoll."

I kneel down and check for injury. He's lucky he missed impaling himself on my knitting needles. I pat over his arms with worry as I murmur, "Good morning to you, too. I thought it would be apparent I'm not so keen on surprises. Are you all right?"Gamzee gives me a sheepish grin from under his wild mess of curls. "Yeah." Sitting back on my haunches with a frown, I inquire, "What in heaven's name were you doing?" He mirrors my movements, looming over my knees and moving steadily forward on his hands and knees, "Dunno, Rosesis. Just woke up this fine-ass morning feeling like I motherfucking **needed** you." Without warning, his lips crash against mine, wild with want. The momentum pushes me back on my butt, and he follows with a shaky sigh, claiming my mouth again. Oh yay. Something bizarre to start my day with.

Awkwardly crab-walking out from underneath him, I try to scoot far enough to be out of range. "Gamzee, what-" He follows, giggling, cutting me off with another liplock. What the hell. The process repeats several more times until I find myself bumping against the foot of my bed. A throaty chuckle echoes around me as my pursuer catches up, "Thinking this is the best game a tag I ever played, sister." He ventures to close the gap between us, albeit slowly, giving me a precious few seconds to think.

Has he lost it? Getting a glimpse at his eyes, I note his scelera isn't red. He's not crazy. As they loom closer, I can see Gamzee's irises are a different matter altogether. They are practically black, a sliver of purple ringing each. He starts the decent for another snog with a grin that screams 'I'm going to do naughty things to you', before everything connects in my head. Musk. 'Needing' me. Blown out pupils. Gogdamn everything that exists in the Void. He's in heat. Fuck my life sideways with a sandpaper dildo. I'm so not ready for this.

Upon that realization, three things happen. I try to ward off another teasing assault with a palm over his mouth, which he gladly licks as I warn him off. "Gamzee. Stop, please." He halts too quickly, causing him to tumble forward into my lap, almost skewering me on the ridiculous tines he has adorning his skull. As he mutters apologies, a dream-bubble takes shape around us, oily skin a rainbow of color as it settles into place. Gamzee disappears with a faint moan and a curse, "Motherfucker!" I'm plopped atop a purple platform on an unfamiliar beach. Well then. Saved by the bubble.

There's nothing quite like being forced to sleep when you were in the midst of attempting to explain to someone why they shouldn't fuck you silly. Or at all. At least I won't have to deal with that hot mess right away. Panic grips me, making my hands shake anyway. Because it's always fun to have panic attacks in unfamiliar territory. Deep breath, LaLonde. You can do this. Looking down, it seems I've been garbed in my action pajamas for this particular escapade. Okay. Better than the silky camisole, anyway. I suppose I'll be serving as the Seer at some point. Fine by me. Smoothing away the trembles by adjusting my skirt, I close my eyes and scan the insides of the bubble. I feel Dave, Terezi, Karkat, and Kanaya. But not Gamzee. Hm. Nope. Not worrisome at all. Meenah and Aranea pop up on my radar, along with a few other, unfamiliar trolls. Perhaps I'll look to speak with them later. I idly wonder how different their ancestral society was from Alternia.

The pleasant hum of a vision feeds into my consciousness. Taking the time to focus on it, I see an entity that looks, for all intents and purposes, like Lord English, albeit slighter, and more feminine. However, it doesn't seem intent on killing me, so I hover closer, noting that its cheek-spirals and eyes are green, not red. Whatever it is, it's dressed rather fussily, green suit, bow-tie, but no shoes. Hmm. It smiles at me widely, and speaks in an English accent chock full of chirps and burrs, "Roxy?" Okay. Before I can reply, or ask why she's called me by my mother's moniker, I'm interrupted by a tap on my shoulder. Dammit. The vision flees from me, never to return.

It's Aranea. Lovely girl, but rather long-winded. Though I've Seen that Karkat's ancestor is way worse. And kind of a douche-bag. At least she's informative. "Good evening, Aranea, how can I help you?" She tells me, in far too many words, that I'm not about to repeat here because I just might perish from boredom, her plans to seek out the monster in my visions. Apparently she is named Calliope, (odd name.) and is the psychic counterpart to Lord English. As such, if she is found, and awakened, we may be able to be rid of Lord English for good.

It niggles familiarity in my mind, but I can't quite bring it to bear under Aranea's verbose barrage. A mini-vision pops up, a blessed distraction, in concurrence with her florid description of her plans. I See the same monster, dressed in the attire of a Prospitian dreamer, smiling sadly in reassurance. Then disappearing. Huh. I politely return my attentions to my blustering visitor. I know, as she talks, and talks, that she will most definitely dawdle on this quest, spending her time gossiping with Meenah. It's of no importance. We will find her, it's just a matter of time. Being the Seer is kind of like being the person who reads the end of the book, and posts spoilers on social networking sites. You know the answers before everyone else, which may or may not make you all that popular. Gah.

Aranea finally bids me adieu, hurrying off for her first gossip session with Meenah. I itch to explore, but can't, at least not until I interact with the persons the dream-bubble had been created for. I have no idea whether that's a game construct, a bizzare quirk of the horror-terrors, or just plain dumbfuckery. If I were to venture a guess, I'd lay my bets on dumbassery. Based on the lovely shoreline, I wager the owner of this bubble is Meenah. The shoreline doesn't have the bubbly cheeriness I've seen with Feferi. It's still and wan, to the point of mournfulness. No life to be seen, no sound. To be honest, it's rather eerie. Then again, one can't expect a centuries-dead troll to accurately remember what life was like prior to death. I can see Kanaya in the distance, and we wave to one another politely. Calling out to her, I ask, "Shall I be in your company this fine day, Miss Maryam?" I feel her eye-roll rather than see it. "I assure you that my cravings for snarky hoofbeastshit have no foreseeable end. I do believe we shall make it a point to see one another today. Can you move yet?" I shrug and nod no. Damn game.

Karkat streaks by us, cussing and mumbling under his breath, utterly unresponsive to our calls. How come he gets to move?! Kanaya calls to me again, "I suppose he's part of the dream-structure, somehow?" I frown, thinking out loud, "I know that it's possible to have multiple participants in a dream, so I suppose he has something to learn from this as well. Perhaps he's met with his ancestor by now? I know for a fact a majority of them reside in this particular bubble." At that Kanaya wraps her arms around herself, looking suddenly shy. "Perhaps." She doesn't say more, though I have a sneaking suspicion I may have to moirail it out of her later.

Our call and reply conversation is interrupted, predictably, by Meenah. When I see her I already know what she's going to ask. She fumbles awkwardly with false bravado, building up to eventually asking me about joining her ghost army. I humor her, simply because I rather think she'd be fun to get to know. Not to mention her braids are pretty neat, and fishpuns are adorable. I can totally relate to not being able to express oneself all that well. It's a pleasant distraction from my current worries nonetheless. Stalling, I inquire about her past. She's completely unwilling to discuss even the smallest detail, though I admit I find her escape to the Beforan moon terribly interesting. Eventually she ends up calling me a "alien windfang." I think it's an insult. When she asks me to join, finally, I accept, but explain we have to help our teen ecto-clones win their games first, as part of some weird paradox space shiznit. She's not pleased, but it's kind of funny anyway. As she storms away to ask Kanaya the same questions, I give a subtle nod no, and she rebuffs the Condese-to-be's advances. She absconds shortly after, muttering excuses about finding Karkat. Interesting. Ah, teenage intrigue.

Finally free to roam, I drift over to Kanaya, who seems a good deal perturbed. "Are you quite all right, Kan?" Her arms return to their sourly crossed state, hugging her sides. "I Do Believe I Am Not All That Well, Miss LaLonde." Oh shit. Talking In Capitals. Moving my moirailing up the schedule, then. Patting her arm gently, I ask, "Do you care to discuss it?" She bites her lip, unresponsive. I can relate. I press the issue, smoothing my arm around her shoulder, "I understand it may be a bit intimidating to meet someone you've rather idolized most of your life. I'm still a bit confounded by my sleeping ecto-mom, to be honest. Though the drool wasn't particularly impressive." She snorts and leans into my shoulder when I squeeze. "She Is Just...So...Empowered, And Cool, And Comfortable With Herself In Ways I Never Could Be And-" I pap the side of her head, and she outright whimpers. Aww, poor baby.

"Kanaya, I do believe you are becoming the green beast of envy. It is not flattering." She huffs, hiding her face in my shoulder while muttering, "She's Just...Everything I Wish I Was." Throwing my other arm around her, I reel her in for a real hug. "Hush, now, Miss Maryam. I will not hear of the idea of you wishing to be anything but yourself. You are the paragon of fashion, a good friend, a wonderful moirail, and an endlessly entertaining source of snarky banter. I could not wish for a better clade member." She starts to reply, but some asshat in a throwback greaser outfit wolf-whistles at us as he strolls by in a sad attempt at casual. I promptly give him the double eagle. That makes Kanaya laugh, a burbling brook of silly giggles. Tipping her chin up with a bemused smile I question her, "Really, Kan? Rude gestures are the way to amuse you? It wounds me to think you are so base!" Her giggles harder, wheezing out a reply, "You are only wounded because it makes you base by association!" Nice!

I give her an elaborate eye roll, "Yes. Clearly. If they were to test our pH levels, they would be astounded at the results." She finally lets go, more of a playful shove, really, and surreptitiously adjusts her makeup. Ever the fastidious one. When she finishes, I ask, "Have you spoken with her as of yet?" Kanaya purses her lips, daywalker fangs making v-shaped dents in her flesh. "No." My raised brows express my displeasure before I speak it. "Perhaps it is something that you should consider. Remember she is a teenage troll, just like you." She nods, slowly releasing the death grip of her fangs from her lower mandible. "How Would I Even Approach Her? What If I Make A Fool Of Myself?"

A little exasperated, I chastise her reticence. "You will not make a fool of yourself. It is something you are nearly incapable of doing." I give her a gentle shove in the direction of her ancestor as I continue my lecture, "Approach with a hello. Introduce yourself. Ask polite questions about her past, her time here, whatever. And ask about those tattoos, they look neat and I'm curious."

She shoots me a leering grin over her shoulder, possibly as an excuse to drag her feet further, "I now see the true nature of your inquest, young lady! For shame! To use me as a tool in your seduction, honestly, Ms. LaLonde! Does your depravity know no end?" I continue shoving with a smirk, "Oh, yes, Kanaya, you've discovered my dirty, dirty secret. I prostate myself before you in humble apology. Now get a move on and talk to her before I drag you there by the horns. Who knows how long this bubble will last, or if we'll ever see them again."

She hesitates a bit more, so I give her a swift boot to the butt. (A very gentle shoosh pappy one, mind.) "Move it, Maryam!" Hunching her shoulders like wings, Kan finally mutters agreement and trudges in the direction of her ancestor. As she disappears into the distance, I call out a friendly reminder, "Remember, Kan, I'll know if you don't talk to her! Good luck!" I think I see two very rude fingers wagged in my general direction. One can never truly be sure. And now. I'm left with my thoughts. Wonderful.

Nope. Distractions are wayyyy better. I'd bother my brother, but he seems intent on remaining elusive and diddling with those silly e-bubbles. It's an interesting concept, really, to manipulate dream-bubbles to your whims, but...hmm. I surface from my thoughts momentarily, that idea seems really...familiar. I start to open my eyes, but some oafish hand has covered my gander-bulbs in effort to rub at my temples. "Just get back to your wicked rememberin, mamacita." It feels less like a suggestion than a command. Odd. I'd push back, but I don't really have the urge to. Odd x2.

Fine. I'll keep remembering, then. The pressure at my temples teases away my headache as I pick up where I left off. Okay, then. Meenah is off chasing Karkat, who seems a bit overwhelmed by the whole ancestor concept. I'll be sure to make time to talk to him about it later, screw Gamzee and his propriety over Kar's feelings. I hear a chuckle above me, but keep pushing further. Terezi...I reach for her mind, but she seems a bit far-off, and clearly telegraphing the desire to be alone. I can totally respect that. Kanaya is talking to her ancestor, finally, so good on that. I'm loath to interact with the greaser, he reminds me too much of things I'd rather not think about. A few short, bitter, flashes of hands and twisting, vile faces pop up, but I bat back the thoughts with a bit of determination. Suddenly the air around me seems to hum with an uncomfortable tension. The fuck is going on in my head today, seriously.

I wander aimlessly in the direction I saw Meenah and Karkat run off to, simply because I have nothing better to do. Stopping for a moment to dip my toes in the dead, ethereal water, I close my eyes again and attempt to hone in on the rest of our compatriots. Latula, I think her name is, has joined in conversation with Kan and...what's her name...Porridge? No. No. Porrim. Right. Okay. Not breaking that up with nosy human needs. I can wait. The chill of the water seeps into my toes as I keep digging further into the bubble. I can See Karkat and Meenah talking, Mytuna..no, Mituna talking with gross greaser guy...Cronos. I'm nearing the end of the bubble when I See lily pads. Frogs. The hell is it with frogs.

For a split second, I sense Gamzee, but I can't see him. He's there, but not there. Like he's standing outside the bubble, somehow. What the fuck. This is something worth investigating. I blast off, heading in the general direction of his presence, ignoring Cronos' solicitation for conversation with a shiver in revulsion. He said something about being humankin? I don't. Just. What. /dead. Cruising over grassland and a nice little bridge, I see the lily-pad field to my left, and adjust accordingly. Even this area feels a bit off, like someone's thrown a bit of opaque lacquer over the very memory of it.

It actually kind of hurts to think about. Wow. Ow. A thunder-crack of pain sears across my brain as I press forward, making me grunt in discomfort. Gamzee's gone stiff and still under me, though his wonderful, clever fingertips are still making my temples sing praise to his touch. Whatever is going on here, I decide it's not safe to land, hovering uncertainly above the two trolls engaged in conversation below me. Doing my best to remain unnoticed, I pluck their names from the ether, Meulin and Kurloz. Clearly Kurloz is Gamzee's ancestor, their likeness is rather startling, from the lanky build, wild hair, strange taste in clown-related makeup, even their horns are exact matches. Duh. Ecto-clones. But the similarities end there.

Something about how he holds himself makes me uncomfortable on a visceral level. It's not because he doesn't mirror the easygoing slouch of Gamzee, it would be ridiculous for me to expect two people to develop exactly alike. It's...hmm. What is it? Meulin runs, scratch that, scampers, off to another lily-pad to retrieve something for the elder Makara, giving me a moment to look him over. Pangs of pain come thicker and faster in my mind as I ruminate over what about him gives me the heebie-jeebies. He seems...predatory. Sanctimonious. Zealous. For what, I have no idea. Meulin cavorts back to Kurloz's side, handing over a, oh fuck me I've seen enough of these things to last me a lifetime, codpiece.

That's when I metaphorically shit my pants. Hard. Kurloz's eyes turn Purple. Fucking PURPLE, as does Meulin's. I cannot hear the words transpiring between them, but I know mind control when I see it. Meulin's face is slack, mirroring whatever Gamzee's ancestor projects to her. He releases her after a few minutes, and they wave goodbye to one another lightheartedly. She doesn't even remember what he did, or handing him the, ugh, codpiece. Following him to the back of the patch, I watch in surprise as he accesses a memory that's more like a passageway. Gamzee's energy is much stronger here. All of this is...very, very wrong. My nerves jump into overdrive. Is he working with Gamzee? Was I right about him this whole time? Was I really the epitome of a foolish little girl? The hot, acrid taste of fear explodes in my mouth with a vengeance. Kurloz pauses in his travels momentarily, before sweeping around to look directly up at me. Oh holy shit, fuck my life with burning irons, in the eyes.

Terror grips me instantly. Purple washes over my remembrance with a blinding pain as a voice that sounds hoarse from screaming takes all control from me, "WHAT THE MOTHERFUCK IS UP, MY LITTLE SEER? GOT YOUR GANDER ON MY MOST MOTHERFUCKING SANCROSANCT OF DUTIES?" Venomous laughter fills my mind as the rest of the bubble fades from my vision, replaced by horrifying memories of my darkest moments, sweat, tears, sore, angry, scared, all come crashing on one another with such speed I feel sick. Hitting the ground with a jolt, the voice echoes in my head with malice as a purple boot grinds onto my fisted hand, "THIS JUST WON'T MOTHERFUCKING DO, MY NINJA. GONNA HAVE TO LAUGHSASSINATE THE REMEMBRANCES OUT OF YOU, IN THE NAME OF THE ANGEL OF DOUBLE-DEATH. CHURCH IS MY MOTHERFUCKING WORD, MY WICKED SEER-BITCH." The world fades to mute black, as if it were being sucked into the darkest of singularities in space.

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Bahaaahaaa updating in the wee hours of the morning. Soo WEEEEEEEEEEE.

Note: Thank you, Yumi! It's almost Halloween soo...creeper's gotta creep? Thanks for the support!

Note: Thank you, Mage! I can't tell you how flattered I am! (Obviously I just did, but, you know...8OD )

Note: Thank you, Expletive-Deleted! I'll try to relieve the tension shortly!

Note: Thanks Kimi! Lol his mode.

Note: Thanks Chibi Night Angel! I promise to make you not dead shortly, no worries!

Note: It's all good, Maria, Just breathe!


	54. Chapter 54

Author's note: There are no quotations around Rose's words because they are thoughts. In her brain. Generally I don't see point in putting quotation marks around thoughts, unless they happen to be sarcastic. =0D

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I snap to on the couch in my living room with a start, wide eyes sweeping my surroundings for danger. This isn't right. I should not be on the same, boring, white, over-priced uncomfortable as hell piece of shit my Cthulhu-princess doll used to reside on. Is residing on. I know for a fact, a fucking fact, that I am no-where near my childhood hell of a home. Holding my head and groaning, I swing into a sitting position. There's no rustle of fabric, no air displaced as I move. Fear creeps its wormy fingers into my thoughts. Where the everloving christ am I?

It looks like my house, but doesn't. Everything about it radiates a wrongness, marking it as a facsimile. Like my home had been abducted by the body-snatchers. House-snatchers. I trace over every familiar inch, taking in the bookshelves, the wizards, the bronzed vacuum statue. Ugly white carpets. Really, who purchases white carpets when they have kids in the house? Evil shrews, that's who. Everything is in it's pre-game place. I shake my head, trying to clear the strange hallucination, but it refuses to leave. I dare to wander over to the window, and am greeted by the verdant woods by my home, a bright synthetic sunlight pouring down upon it. Leaning on the glass, I scrunch my forehead in thought. Where was I prior to this?

...Right. The dream-bubble. That bastard Kurloz caught me by surprise with his chucklevoodoo. Made me relive every worst nightmare, the flying asshole. All right, I was flying, but still. Am I trapped in some bizarre thought-loop now? No. That's not right either. I distinctly remember being on the couch in the enter...oh fuck trolls, living room of the meteor. On Gamzee's lap. Who, prior to the dream-bubble, was engaged in molesting the shit out of me on account of his first rut cycle. Why is my life so weird? I hear a hum behind me, "I dunno, sister, ain't much stranger than mine is, anyroads." I'd recognize that voice anywhere. How the hell did Gamzee hear what I was thinking? Spinning, I spy my intruder on the couch, sitting with a leg thrown over his knee. Calm as if he belonged there. On my couch. Which I only have...

Gamzee leans forward with a knowing smile, winking, "You're close, sister. Say it." In my memories. With a quick scan, I ascertain that we are not, in fact, residing in a dream bubble. We're really just hanging out in my cranium. With all my vulnerable thoughts. Awesome. Would this train-wreck of a lifetime be so kind as to fuck off and die. He sprawls back on the couch, throwing his arms over the back. "Damn girl, you cuss a whole fuckton all up in your thinkpan. Why ain't you never saying that noise?" His face is innocent enough, curiosity perking up his features. But. He's. In. My. Fucking. HEAD.

Okay. Game over, time to close up shop. This motherfucker has been toying with me long e-fucking-nuff. The room around me is engulfed in black flame, hissing venomous threat. How dare he?! Stepping into my head like it's a damn vacation! I'm so angry I can barely see straight. Not Grimdark, but awful close. Gamzee quickly stands, holding his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. "Whoa, now, motherfucker, chill. Ain't got to get all rowdy." Yeah. That's the straw that broke the quadrupedal hump-mammal's back.

Energy shoots from my fingertips with a refreshing ZOT, rending the shitty couch in two. Unfortunately, since he's IN MY HEAD, he can hear the thought before I do it. He back flips, graceful as an acrobat at a gogdamn circus. It's fucking annoying, but doesn't stop me from trying to fry up a slice of troll bacon. Each hiss of lightning just misses him, making me growl with a predatory rage. Gamzee haphazardly backpedals, ducking and bending to avoid being hit. He's trying to talk, but I've had enough bullshit. "Motherfuck!" The bronze statue explodes. Fucking poetic, I tell you. He jukes to the left, "Gogdammit, baby girl-" Oops there goes the horrendous huge wizard statue. Really, my house was fucking drowning in statues. Covered in them. Like bitches. He springs away from the statue's wreckage, "I'm trying to-" Nope, no sir. You are not going upstairs. Say goodbye to the staircase. They explode in a satisfying crunch of wood and marble. Because I warned you about them. He leaps over the ruined railing, hardly even out of breath, "Motherfucking expl-" I finally land a hit, square on the chest, and he howls in agony, dropping to his knees.

I'd bask in the victory of finally getting the upper hand, but I'm too eager to deliver a finishing blow. Even still, as I approach, magic at the ready, Gamzee looks...sad. Regretful. Like there's no fight left in him, nor was there ever. It gives me pause. That isn't the right face to be wearing when you reveal yourself as a villain.

I could reach out and touch him, I'm so close. Gamzee still hasn't moved. Is this another ruse? As the thought forms and echoes in my mind, his face twists into an unmistakably pained masque. Black magic drips and gutters on my fingertips, eager to seek a target to destroy. I'm...kinda at a loss. It's probably just a trick. Casting his eyes down, he finally deigns to speak in a soft drawl, "Is that what all's been up in your pan this whole motherfucking time?" What? No. No. You do not get to sound defeated and betrayed. You're the one working with Kurloz, for fucking English himself. Angel of double death my ass. More like angel of hairy, sweaty, deceitful bumfuckery. You do not get to pull kicked puppy eyes at me, pal. I zap his knee for emphasis.

In half the time it takes for me to blink, he's off the floor and in my face. Fuck. He's not even marked from when I hit him. I bet it didn't even hurt. He cups my face when he speaks again, "Nah. Just a tickle." He's bleeding looming over me, all dark and troubled smolder. I swear if he tries to kiss me I will blast his ass right the fuck out of my head and abscond into the deepest negaverse ether I can find. He does, a light peck on the tip of my nose, just because my life is stupid that way. "Rosesis, I'm really trying to motherfucking explai-"

I follow through, mostly out of spite, partly because that's just too damn intimate a gesture for someone who is stomping all over my trust issues. With spiky steel-toe stiletto boots. No. No sexy thoughts. Stop that. I focus myself, shooting liquid hate from my hands. He whines under the sizzling pressure of the magic, trying to dig his claws into any available surface to halt his backward progress. He dares to wear a face of a spurned lover. It doesn't help my self-control; I throw a tantrum like a proper five year old. Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck everything. I Push as hard as I can. An audible pop sounds in my ears. He shifts uncomfortably under me on the couch with a grunt. Just a damn tickle, huh? My ass. I still can't move, or open my eyes. However, my headspace feels...different. Clearer.

That doesn't mean I can't still see him. Damn. Wherever he's landed, it clearly isn't part of my house. It's foreboding, flashes of purple and white lightning playing over a ruined landscape of spectacularly strange, almost organic-looking, buildings set against a turbulent ocean. I send out a little bolt of power, testing the unfamiliar. It glances harmlessly off a transparent barrier near his face. Gamzee raises an eyebrow and blinks blearily at the sound, before turning his attention to me. His voice sounds like he's yelling across a canyon, "Ain't gonna do you much good, sister. Not all up in your pan to be on the receiving end of those wicked magic miracles." Then why can't I wake up?! He squints through the barrier, "Can't hear you less you talk at me, Rosesis." Right. He's not in my head.

Walking up to the barrier, I cross my arms over myself defensively before demanding, "Why can I not wake yet? What in the name of the Void happened after I collapsed in the dream bubble?" How many of those memories did he see?! I anxiously wait for his answer, shifting my weight from one foot to another. He leans his head against the barrier, rubbing it from side to side without regard to his makeup. "Motherfucker, that's what I've been trying to get my chatter on." He leans back on his palms, regarding me with an air of frustration. This day keeps getting stranger, and I don't remember following a white rabbit in a dress coat to his warren. I sit across from him, a skeptical scowl written clear on my features. I'm quite sure he's gotten the 'I don't fucking trust you' memo by now. His eyes haven't left my face, nor have they lost that damnable look of 'why did you just kick all of those baby sea otters?' For the sake of all the fucks I have left to give! "Perhaps, Gamzee, you should start from the beginning."

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Note: Thanks Yumi, for the encouragement! I really do appreciate it!

Note: Thanks, Moonlit Mage!, Glad I could make the start of your day more pleasant!

Note: Thanks, Kimi! I shall keep the mindfery coming!

Note: Thanks Maria! I'll try to keep you guessing!

Note: Thanks, Soul Whisperer! I'm flattered by your enthusiasm!

Note: Thanks, SS! I'm glad you enjoyed the read!

Note: Thanks, OO, Love the enthusiasm!


	55. Chapter 55

A/N: First of all, I am so damn sorry I took so long to update. I got hung up on some plot points, and yeah, the updates. And other boring crap. Have some stuff to read during the hurricane. Gamzee's thoughts are in italics, because Gamzee.

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Gamzee scoots closer to the barrier as I study everything in my line of sight but him. His voice prods at my consciousness with an insistence, "_Sister, I got an honest in my chute, can't even be pretending to be knowing how to start this noise._" Well la di dah. I nod curtly, still refusing to look in his direction. I'm so not providing fodder for this conversation. You dug the hole, you climb out, pal.

I fill in the uncomfortable silence by sussing out the bizarre world behind him. His gaze feels like frickin lasers boring holes into my carapace. Every time white lightning hits, I see more detail in the landscape. It's definitely on a rocky beach, and most certainly not welcoming in any way. It reminds me a bit of a trip my mother and I took to Acadia National Park once. Without, you know, trees, and the implicit feel of doom. Everything about it screams danger, jagged and broken in ways that nearly defy logic.

Rocks balance precariously on one another, so close to toppling, somehow managing not to. Sand shifts and blows in dizzying dust devils with the driving wind. Rain pelts down in merciless sheets, and I'm amazed by the fact Gamz isn't soaked. There's no life, no safe quarter to be seen, unless one counted the haunted-mansion mated with a honeybee hive lurking in the background. It looks practically sentient. Creepy.

When Gamzee's head thuds against the barrier, I finally give in and turn to face him. His face is twisted in a menagerie of emotion. How he manages to show fear, betrayal, lust, and loss all at the same time simply evades comprehension. Refusing to feel badly for him, I give the most nonplussed glare I can muster before speaking, "Do you intend to give yourself brain damage, or are you actually going to explain yourself? Either way I do wish you would be quick about it."

His face settles on something akin to sorrow. His eyes are hollow, pleading. Empty and yet so full. It tugs places in me that shouldn't be available to traitors. Ugh. More reasons to hate myself. He motions for me to get closer, and because I'm stupid, I do.

If there was nothing between us, our knees would be touching. He starts talking in a soft whisper, and I can only barely hear what he's saying, "Even if I...truth...you...disbelieving...miracles." Oh what the fuck. With a frown I lean closer, nose brushing the cold expanse before me, "Gamzee, you have to speak up."

It's not fun to realize the exact moment you've been made a fool of. A grey hand darts through the barrier, grabbing my ankle, and pulls me across like a sack of feathers. The sounds of the storm and the pelting rain are the first to assault my senses once I make it across...whatever that was.

It's probably just a hallucination to keep me off kilter. My distraction is only broken by the realization I'm straddling Gamzee's lap. The aforementioned grinning like an idiot. Of course. Why not. Because that's totally cool.

I shove him away, scrambling back towards the barrier...to find nothing but beach. Sand sifts through my searching fingers as I crabwalk haphazardly away. Didn't think I'd be doing that twice in one day. I'm not even the right Zodiac sign for these shenanigans. Oh sweet Jegus rollerblading Christmas where the fuck am I now.

Trying to fight to the surface of my thoughts, I start to panic in earnest. I can't feel my body. Oh fuck I can't feel my body, oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. Gamzee is just following behind me with an amused smirk, like he's got all the secrets. Clearly he has. All of them. Gog I'm so stupid. Stupid stupid dumb.

'_Yo, Rosesis. You ain't got to be getting all that fear on. I got you, body's got it's respiration going strong._' He does ^something^, and I feel myself breathing. It's a bizarre kind of relief to be happy about inhaling oxygen and exhaling carbon dioxide.

If I had control over my body, I swear to the gogs in the Void I would have the worst eye twitch ever. Wait. He didn't even move his lips. What the fuck. He raises an eyebrow as the next words echo around us, '_Helps if you say what you're thinking out loud, baby girl_.'

I very clearly heard what he said. He didn't have to move his mouth to speak. The cogs in my brain spin furiously. He's either become a ventriloquist...or... '_There you go, sister. Got your knowing on where we is?_' Gamzee smiles at me like I'm a clever child. Fuck him. Of course. This day just had to get worse. I'm in a serial-killer's brain. Awesome. Just like one of John's crappy movies.

Screw this rain, and screw talking to him. Ignoring Gamzee, I stalk past him towards the bug version of a Haunted Mansion. I bet you the whole Manson family of his messed up issues live there in a gogdamn commune. Maybe I'll get stabbed. With a rusty fork. Then I can wake up from this rain-drenched clusterfuck.

The lightning striking around the palace of doom makes it no less intimidating. Regardless, I refuse to just stand out here on the beach like a turkey drowning by staring up at the rain. Setting my shoulders in defense against the wind and rain, I make a fast break for the Manson house, leaving him behind.

Which lasts for all of ten seconds as he catches up easily. I could use magic, but what's the point. It's his brain. He could probably fly in here. I bet it would be in a codpiece-shaped flying clown-car, too. My life is stupid that way. Gamzee ambles beside me quietly for a moment, before musing, '_Could you tell if I was setting down wicked untruths in here?_' Christ. I can't get to the spook-house soon enough. Shrugging noncommittally, I return, "I have no idea, Gamzee."

'_Figuring you wouldn't believe me less you could hear it from the hoofbeast's mouth, so to speak. Let me try._' Climbing the steps and ducking under the awning, I lean my back against the wall and roll my eyes in acquiescence. The wall is...spongy. Ew.

He slouches to the wall across from me, studying my face. '_Hmmmnnn. What all mischievous mirth could I be getting to saying?_' He leans a little closer, a small smirk toying at the corners of his mouth. '_Thinking you ain't the sexiest motherfucker on this rock. Maybe this here motherfucker can do better._'

Gamzee looks like he said the funniest joke ever, leaning back on the sponge-wall with a shit eating grin. If it weren't for the twanging wrong as the phrase bounced against my powers as Seer, I'd be angrier. Acid in my voice, I answer his little challenge, "Clearly, you're lying. Though I rather think that I could find a better suitor. Is there purpose in this activity or is this just another of your entertainments?"

His mouth tugs down, pouting in response. '_Damn, sister. Ain't got to be so cold. Trying to get my truth-noise on, if you'd open up your motherfucking aurals._'

No sense of illegitimacy rankles my senses as he shoulders past to the door. Curiosity gets the better of me. "I know we are currently in your mind, but where, exactly, are we?" Gamzee tosses a sardonic look over his shoulder, '_Where were we when we was wandering up in your wonder pan?_' Oh. Okay then. Gamzee lived in the equivalent of a haunted house. Very well then. He pushes the door open with a sweeping gesture to usher me inside.

I gather my bearings in the foyer, using my powers as Seer to map out the inner workings of his...um...'_Welcome to my hive, mamacita._' Hive. Yes. Because bugs.

What am I talking about? I was the one comparing it to a haunted bee hive. So bugs. They make sense. From what I can tell, each room has its own set of memories, ready for access. I'd push more, but...I really don't want to find something weird. Or pornographic. I am in a teenage boy's brain, after all.

I pick through the detritus of his home with care. Empty pie-tins and Faygo bottles litter the floor, along with bike-horns and other...unidentifiable...materials. I shudder to think of what it may be. The room is a little different than I had expected, from what I can tell, there isn't a couch. Just a red cocoon dealie in one corner, a computer table, another flat table, and a fuckton of Troll ICP posters.

Um. Well. This could be awkward. "I take it this is your respite block?" He nods, gesturing me onwards, '_Yeah. Kinda disappointed, though._' A quizzical frown bends my visage when I turn to him, "Disappointed? Why?"

He turns a sly smile over his shoulder as he kicks a tin out of his path, '_This here talky-business wasn't the way a motherfucker imagined getting a fine sister into his respite-block._' A porno moan and a flash of teal plays at the edge of my vision, but whatever thought it was is quickly shooed away by Gamzee. '_Heh. Sorry!_' Damn him for playing dirty.

I smirk in spite of myself. "Yes, I'm sure you are the very paradigm of shame and contriteness at this moment. You've lead me to believe that you are attempting to make 'truth noise' at my person. Is this going to happen anytime soon?"

He nods, waving me on, '_Yeah, baby girl. Just got to be finding the right doors and shit._' We turn left out of his room, into an ridiculously long (I think, or at least it feels that way) and dark hallway. Not like I could tell my fist from a Faygo in here. Maybe I wasn't too far off the mark with the serial killer commune in his brain.

He stops short, making me collide into his back. Quick, cool hands steady me from falling on my ass as he apologizes, '_Motherfuck. Forgot you ain't got the night sight up in your ganderbulbs. Here. Hang on to this motherfucker and I'll guide those glutes in the most righteous of directives_.' Gamzee wraps my hands around his waist, his own fingers clamping over them. This is probably less for my benefit than he pretends, sneaky punk.

I'd tell him that he can just imagine light in the hallways, and thus it shall be, but it seems like an exercise in futility. Perhaps partially because I'm a little afraid of what I may see. If it's anything like my imagination, which is currently running off screaming into the night, I really, really, don't want to know. '_You doin right sister? Hearing some fear-song back there._' It's eerie to hear his voice and not see it's source.

My voice is absolutely not squeaking when I reply, "Yes. I'm quite fine. Is our destination much further?" I am not asking because the ink-black of this murderhive is making me paranoid. Not at all. A chuckle and a reassuring squeeze of fingers join in his answer, '_Soon, chica. Don't worry none._' I realize, belatedly, that following a Stephen King's It- like troll in the dark takes a good deal of trust.

Arg mixed feelings. I wonder if there's a horror-terror incantation to cast them out eternally. So I can finally become my final form, the awkward-bot. Yes. It is my life's goal.

I sense, rather than see, my not-mime of a host coming to a stop in front of me. '_Feeling like this is the right miraculous place I been searching for, Rosesis. Hang on a tic, gonna snap that bitchin door wide for ya_.' He disentangles himself from my near iron-grasp, leaving me to listen desperately for his shuffling footsteps towards whatever new portal of bizarre depravity he's dragging me to.

There's a dim light, not terribly unlike that of a full moon back on Earth, pouring from the now wide-open doorway. Gamzee leans against the frame, the glint of light on his teeth indicating a small smile, '_Come on in, chica. Got some motherfucking tales and miracles you need to be all up and motherfucking attentive for._' His voice is velvety, soothing against the stickers and burrs of worry that harry my mind. A breeze blows past him, smelling of sweet summer grass and sand dunes.

It occurs to me that I could have blasted myself free from his grasp quite some time ago. Probably not without causing a great deal of harm, however. I stare past him, noting the glittering stars in the purple-black sky beyond the door. There are no clouds to obscure them.

Two moons, one green, another pink, hang low in the firmament over a glassy ocean, rising in tandem. Everything is so foreign, but so familiar in it's own way. It's beautifully exotic. Perhaps I want to believe in redemption. Perhaps I'm a fool. Perhaps...

Sand and rocks crunch underfoot as I follow my gangly minstrel into his memories.

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Note: Thanks to Maria! Hahaha I'm sorryy!

Note: Thanks to Kimi! I know, right! Damn him for being such a tease!

Note: Thanks JK! I appreciate your enthusiasm!

Note: Thanks Flicking Walruses. Ahahaha I'll never tell.

Note: Thanks superlabelgirl! I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

Note: Thanks ButtMage! You're the best! I'll try to get the next one up soon!

Note: Thanks Sarah! I'm glad you're enjoying the story!


	56. Chapter 56

A/N: Sorry for the wait. Hurricanes and things. And, you know, fucking huge ass chapter. Enjoy!

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He leads me forward without explanation, ambling over a well-worn path between a pair of sparsely-grassed sand dunes. The waves ahead crash in a steady rhythm of advance and retreat, hissing along the sand quietly like a low-tide. When we clear the dunes, I'm a little surprised to see bio-luminescence lighting up the waves in imitation of the stars above. Huh. I guess they had jellyfish too.

Gamzee stops in front of a long piece of driftwood, gesturing for me to sit while staring at the sky. A breeze stirs the sand at my feet as I settle into the most comfortable position, avoiding poky bits at all costs. Kicking off my shoes and digging my toes into the cool sand, I inquire, "Do you intend to tell me why we are not currently being drenched by a torrential downpour, or are we going to pawn it off as miracles?" Gog I am such a bitch right now. Why am I doing this. Dammit, no, he's the one in the wrong. Stop feeling guilty, dumbass.

Sighing and wrapping his arms around himself, his voice echoes, '_Different part of my brain. Call it the viewing room. Get my motherfucking think on in here._' Bah? Hmm. He glances over at me, tapping a foot in the sand, '_Little insulting you getting your quiet ass surprise going, sister._' Oh, um?

I start out of my musing, "Sorry. It's not quite that. I just find it interesting the concept of a mental warehouse, or I guess I should say mental compartmentalization, is a universal constant. I remember reading a long time ago about a fellow who came up with the philosophy, he touted that it made the brain stronger simply because it strengthened the neural pathways to one's long and short term memories." Gamzee stares at me like I have three heads. '_What?_'

Right. Human theories, not troll. "Never mind. It was a long winded compliment. You've something to show me?" He nods, turning back to the sky over the ocean. '_Thanks, I guess. Guessing I should start on my motherfucking tale of mirth and wonder, then._' I roll my eyes at his back, "It would be ideal, Gamzee."

He shrugs off my sarcasm, pointing to the expanse before him. My eyes follow his gesture like unwitting lambs. The firmament bursts into a cacophony of light and color, shifting and changing fluidly before forming a picture. Mog. (Dammit, Meulin.) It's a little Gamzee! Fucking adorable, all arms, elbows, knees and legs! All of that hair! He's a pointy little dandelion! Stupid brain. Shut up. Traitors aren't cute. Either ignoring or not noticing my fangirl fit, he starts his story with a tired voice.

'_This here noise starts sometime around my second wriggling day. You'll be noticing that little wriggler there is my dumb ass. About a sweep before I get enrolled in schoolfeeding. I know you got your remember on about my lusus never being 'round much, but he left more or less permanent like on my second w-day. All telling me to stay out of the ocean and shit, then sailing off till the day he dies._' His words trail off bitterly as the visual in the skies mirror his words.

A little boy, sans makeup, runs to the ocean to be nuzzled by a large white goat-fish thing, which whispers to him to stay out of the sea, and swims off. The little boy runs up and down the beach, calling for the creature, but it doesn't turn around. Sitting on the beach, the tyke cries and waits until morning before scuttling back inside. So far, no lies, no attempts to hide or change anything. Okay.

The picture shifts into the inside of the hive, child-Gamz laying listlessly on the floor, thinner and more unkempt. Sitting down next to me and leaning against a bundle of roots, Gamzee continues. His words are hollow in a way that twists knives in the more sympathetic parts of my person. I push away the conflicting emotion in favor of paying attention to the narrative unfolding before me.

'_Being a little-ass motherfucker, I didn't much know how to care for my own self. Few perigees later, I was pretty sick. Didn't have no friends what to talk to or nothing, couldn't ask neighbors for help on fear a getting culled. Figured laying down and dyin was about the best option to be had. Least it wouldn't hurt as much as I heard culling was. Was the first time I heard them._'

The facsimile Gamzee sits up when he hears a booming voice, looking for its source excitedly. '_First I thought it was my Goatdad, but of course it motherfucking wasn't. Just some freaks. I didn't know any motherfucking better, though, was hella excited someone was up and talking to me._' Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I see Gamzee's face has a tight, drawn quality to it. Whatever he's going to tell me is apparently taking a great toll on him.

Kurloz's hatefully familiar voice booms around us, "Hail the Mirthful Messiahs and the Angel of Double Death, inveterate brother mine! I done brought the Church up to your motherfucking aurals for some wicked listentainment." A smaller voice, which sounds a good deal like white static, rumbles in agreement with Kurloz'. I can't make out what it says.

He looks over at me, a weak grin breaking over his lips. '_Don't strain yourself trying to listen to the second motherfucker. He was a cryptic little asshole._' The picture shifts again, showing me mini-Zee being laboriously instructed on how to feed himself, clean, and cook sopor pies by the formally mysterious voices.

'_They taught me how to fend for myself, cook, fight, change my sopor, make the wicked pies what to dull all the hurting up in my biscuit. First time in my whole life someone ever gave one damn about me. Always pushing me to try harder, do better. Motherfucking granted, I didn't always follow up on the do better noise, but they tried. Gave me hope in the Church, got me thinking this shitty as hell life could be motherfucking transcended, and I'd get my sweet ass a wicked punched ticket to the Dark Carnival with some real motherfuckers to call family and home with._'

Something about the way he speaks about them, sounds nostalgic, wistful. '_Never gave me their names. Said I had to up and prove I was worthy. Asked me to do all sortsa silly shit. I had no idea they was getting our world ready for Sgrub and after, but whatever._'

Pictures of Gamzee ambling over ruins to plant a dirty old hat, John's? How'd that get there? Hiding a journal in a shipwreck, sending messages over the internet, leaving an 8-ball near a large spider, various little activities all under the direction of Kurloz' boom or the staticky speech of what I assume to be Doc Scratch/Lord English.

As he talks, I keep testing for signs of dishonesty, but find none. It's unsettling. He's not even trying to hide any thoughts, I could very easily wander away from this narrative and explore on my own...but I've watched The Cell with John on stream before. The monsters hide in weird places. At some point, it seems Gamzee had taken off his clodhoppers, as I find my own toes being poked with big ol' purple ones. '_Drifting off on a motherfucker?_' I guiltily stare at my feet, tracing designs in the sand.

Keeping an icy, even tone is slowly becoming difficult, but it doesn't stop me from trying anyway. "Hardly, Gamzee. I was testing for falsehood." Poking me again, warmth seeps into his words. '_I'm guessing so, sister. Find anything I should be noting?_' I shake my head in a negative, counting sand grains and willing my blush away. He shifts a little closer with a chuckle, '_You're cute as hell when you're all flustered, Rosesis. You want that I should keep going?_'

Jegus. What a shameless flirt. It's not fair. Closing my eyes to find a center that isn't stupid kawaii uguu over the troll next to me, I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Please do. Keep your distance, sir." I am literally the worst person in paradox space. He's spilling all his secrets and I'm a...stop it stop it stop it adlkfjadskjfnadskjnhfka! TRAITOR. FACT. Or as Dave says, 'tru facts.'

A cool finger prods at my cheek. What, is that one of his damn hobbies? '_You gonna open those gander-bulbs a yours? Ain't much of a viewing room if no watching is happening._' Rubbing a temple and cracking open my eyes, I brush away the intruding hand. His face falls, just a little, but damn it hurts. This is so fucking stupid. I am going to need something so much stronger than some fucking tea after all of this.

Gamzee turns skyward again, hands laced meekly in his lap. '_...Yea. Anyways, ah...Right. Right. So, I was doing all these little miracles for them, and they was more or less taking care of me. Felt right loyal to 'em for making sure I wasn't all dropping off the mortal coil and shit._'

The picture changes, fast-forwarding through memories of his first meeting with Karkat, emblazoned with little diamonds, talking to people on the internet, arguing with Eridan about his errant Faygo bottles, flashes of a wheelchair-bound boy with little hearts drawn around him. Goddamn that's cute.

'_Even after I was all up and getting schoolfed, and meeting new friends and all, I was still pretty much alone most the time. I mean, Karbro would come over sometimes to check on me, but that was about it. They was always the best motherfucking days.' _Some pictures of Karkat and Gamzee talking and playing video-games pop up. Karkat cooking for Gamzee while he sat at the kitchen counter, smiling his doofy smile.

Continuing with a sheepish grin, he said, '_Talking on the net is fun, but it didn't much substitute for real contact. The Messiahs was always talking to me, even if the sopor muffled them up some. Least most of the nastier things they wanted me to do, anyhows._'

A dark flash streaks across the sky, made of a finger-painted, dripping rainbow. I know that isn't real paint, and it makes me shiver a little. He keeps going, '_Felt like I always had someone around. Kinda like your human families, or something. It was nice._'

He falls quiet for a second as the pictures fade from the sky. I don't want to look at him because it'll probably break my stupid dumb heart. Staring out at the ocean instead, I watch the multi-colored jellyfish roll and drift in the waves. I let my mind wander, processing what he's said so far. Okay. He's more or less explained how he knows Kurloz, as well as English. Why he feels obligated to them. His feelings for Karkat and who I assume to be Tavros. No lies, and surprisingly uncomplicated thus far.

Color and light draw my eyes upwards as he speaks again, unconsciously leaning in my direction as he does so. '_We kinda fell into a routine. I'd get my schooling on, never paid attention anyhows, always staring at my flush or pale crush like a mute-mouthed loud-breather dumbfuck, then I'd come home and run errands for them. Went on like that for a long fucking time. I realize listening to voices don't really sound like the sharpest picture of motherfucking health, but I was lonely._' I shrug, urging him to keep going silently.

'_My Karbro, even though he was shouty as all hell, was my best motherfucking friend. Never picked up on my obvious as fuck pale flirts, though. Sometimes wonder...iffen he had, how things woulda gone down, later._'

First person flashes of a blue troll being strangled, an olive-green hit with clubs skirt across the stars quickly. Shame, thick and suffocating, washes through me. That must have been Equius and Nepeta. Wow. I didn't realize I'd be able to feel as he felt. Makes me wonder what he felt when he was in my head.

The two mangled trolls fade away, replaced by an older Gamzee sitting on the beach with a computer. '_Sorry. Now's not for wanting things to be motherfucking different. As the game drew closer, I kinda realized what all Kurloz and English was planning, even if I didn't want to believe it. They wanted to kill off everyone on Alternia, hell, the whole universe, so's English could enter into it. I been working for them so long, I didn't really know what to do.'_

_'If I said no, everyone I was friends with would die. I would die. I'd never enter the Dark Carnival. Scared me shitless. If I said yes...everybody lives, sort of. English made it pretty clear they could find someone else if they was wanting to. Anyway, I kinda fucked up and took too long to get into the game, cuz I couldn't make up my dumbass mind, which almost got Fef and Sollux killed after Karbro ran that double-mobius reacharound virus. That I fucking sent him, not Sol. Never thought he'd use it._'

The memories in the sky come faster, a scrolling visual of the events prior to their entrance to the game, as well as the game itself. '_Once we got into the Medium, everybody just kinda split off and did their own thing on their planet. I wasn't wanting to get on with the murdermirth what Kurloz and English was telling me to get down to with the imps, for practice, they said. So I kinda...ate a shitton of pie and tried to forget everything I done. Everything they wanted me to do.'_

_'Karbro, sweet motherfucker he is, came to visit and check up on my ass, made sure I had enough pie and shit. Walked around on the planet some to figure out its wicked mysteries. Kept finding placards in old Alteranian, said something like the little planet side dudes was waiting for someone who would betray, then redeem. I'm guessing it meant all the political shenanigans we all up and partook in. Coz we betrayed lotsa motherfuckers to get the black queen killed, even if it meant that it was easier to kill the black king and free the little carapaces. And, you know, get the reward._'

I don't quite think that's what the tablets meant, but he seems to be on a roll. I watch idly as the final battle plays out, the trolls working in unison to attack the king mercilessly, except for Gamzee, who seemed content to stay back. '_I wasn't wanting to hurt anyone, till the King up and slapped around my Karbro._'

Righteous anger floods through the both of us as I get a first person view of Gamzee using the Hammer of Zillyhoo to knock off a good deal of bits and gore from the King. From what I've seen, it seems to be the most devastating of all of the attacks, outside of a die-based attack by a winged troll I assume to be Vriska. '_Spiderbitch finished him off, though.'_

Gamzee's speech takes on a slightly more dolorous tone as he shows me the 'final reward' door'_.' I wanted to run back to Tents and Mirth to grab some sopor, after the last battle, but Kar said we had to get going. Be honest I wasn't feeling all that right in the head, the Messiahs, which is what I got to calling 'Loz and Scratch coz they never told me their names, were getting real fucking loud after I broke out some of the harshwhimsy on the king. Telling me I'm important to the end times, gotta up and murder my brethren.'_

He stops to take a breath before continuing, _'When Jack attacked, I was kinda relieved, coz I thought it would end the game, end us. It'd finally all be over._' The Aradiabots swarm en masse to my game's version of Jack Noir, Karkat grabs Gamzee and shoves him into the transportalizer, screaming his head off.

Feeling a little sore, I slide off the log into the cushioning sand below. It's cold like it would be in the middle of winter on Earth, but I don't really care. This is probably the most he's talked about himself, ever, even with our sessions. And I'm kind of fucking fascinated despite myself. The log isn't comfortable to lean my head on, but it's better than nothing. He continues to inch his way closer, like I'm a damn magnet. I probably am. I'm just that awesome. Feet and legs come to rest a few inches from my hand and shoulder, respectively.

He picks up the story again after settling himself, hesitancy slowing his words, '_At first, the meteor weren't so bad. Karbro had up and brought me sopor, cuz he was stupid pale for me and didn't know it yet. Not like I was trying to be all hiding how I felt._' I couldn't help but snort in retort, "You never do."

Gamzee bumps his knee against my shoulder playfully, '_Aw, come on now. Can't be hiding those miraculous motherfucking feelings for some beautiful motherfuckers. Gotta do what's right all in my pump biscuit and let a fine ass sister know what's up. _' A galaxy of pictures spreads out against the sky. Much to my chagrin, they're all me, little doodles of hearts and flowers everywhere like Valentine's day had puked all over Gamzee's memory bank. If I weren't angry, it'd be cute. But I am. So. Bluh. It doesn't stop the goofy smile from blossoming on my face, or my bad attempt to cover it up with my hand.

The moment is abruptly ruined by a facsimile of my voice screeching Gamzee's name, loudly, along with some rather filthy invective describing what I can only assume are feats accomplished by mating trolls. Fuck my life so hard, with corroded sewer-pipes. I hope I get tetanus and gangrene, so this...noise. Can stop happening. Forever.

I facepalm a little too enthusiastically as Gamzee stands to frantically wave the memory from the sky, apologizing all the while. '_Motherfuck, sorry! It's...um, damn. Fuck, I mean, shit. It's just that, ah, what all with...you know..._' Embarrassment and lust push against one another like waves, swirling around the room. He's fumbling so badly I wave off explanation.

The fake me finally cuts off mid-moan. Worst moment ever. Rolling my head in his direction, I huff impatiently until he looks down, "I get it, Gamzee. It's a troll rut thing. I appreciate that you've controlled it so well thus far." He nods, hand clasping the back of his neck. '_Yea. Still sorry, though._' With a sigh, I look skyward again, to be greeted with visions of the meteor. "It's fine, just try to keep a lid on it for the rest of the story? Try not to think of me too much."

He sits back down, as far away from me as possible. Even though, metaphorically, I'm still touching his wood. Ha. I decide it's a bad idea to let him know that, he looks near to burst with awkward. Prompting him gently, I cajole,"Please do continue your story, Gamzee. I'm not mad."

Kicking his feet in the sand as he talks, he continues in a subdued voice. '_Yeah, I got some know on that. Thanks. Anyways, I was saying it was pretty good on the meteor at first.' _A few flashes of Gamzee interacting with the others, performing tricks, making the girls laugh, just being himself. Staring after Karkat with a sad little smile. Trying to get people to sleep on a horn-pile, much like the one he has in his own room.

_'Karbro got me enough sopor to last a while, so the Messiahs were pretty quiet, even though they was still insisting I take down some peasant-blooded motherfuckers. I kept trying to get him to pay attention to me, do some jamming...but it never really worked out. He was always busy trying to keep everybody together, trolling the kids, or just, lotsa stuff.'_

_'He never really had time for me. I mean, don't get a motherfucker wrong, I know a lot of what he did was wicked important...but, I dunno. I guess I just was being selfish in wanting him like that. I even tried talking to you guys, just to make him happy. But that...didn't turn out so motherfucking well._'

He pauses, glancing over at me anxiously. It takes a second to realize where the story is going. Dave. Stupid fucking Dave. Against my better judgment, I wave him over. We've been working towards this story for months, and I'll be fucked with a dried up whale-dick if I'm going to screw it up now.

Shuffling over, he plops down beside me on the sand, crossing his arms over his knees and resting his chin there. He looks so small, even though he's practically two heads taller than me. I scoot close enough for my hip to bump against his, and in seconds he's leaning into me with a small sigh. He quietly murmurs '_Thanks, sister._' I reach an arm around his shoulders and squeeze.

Scrutinizing his profile, I ask cautiously, "Are you sure you're ready to talk about this?" Part of me asks because I'm concerned. The other half because I don't want to be stuck in a murder troll's brain when he flips the fuck out. He rumbles out a soft '_yes,_' screwing his face up in concentration.

'_I ran out of sopor near a week before I talked to Dave. It was getting harder to keep the Messiahs quiet. Was getting harder not to listen to them. Got so I couldn't talk to nobody in person, hiding out around the meteor. Karbro got all worried I done and hurt myself. Kept messaging me, but I kinda ignored it on account of not wanting to scare him. Started getting real anxious-like, irritated with everything. Figured I'd take it out on you star-monkeys for fun. Blow off a little steam-like._'

He hides his face in his arms reflexively, '_Not my best motherfucking idea ever. Strider started throwing some blasphemous noise about the Mirthful Messiahs, then...he showed me that MOTHERFUCKING VIDEO. Couldn't believe my see-stalks. My beautiful paradise planet, my Messiahs, the Carnival, everything. Was just a motherfucking lie. Everything I believed in, thought I could escape to, crumbled down to ashes. And that brother thought it was funny as hell. I tried to work it out by dropping a sick rhyme with him, but it wasn't enough. The wicked truth weighed down my think pan like the Condesce's SunSlammer was up and crushing it.'_

_'Talked to Scratch, and that there motherfucker called me a sucker for believing. For up and motherfucking believing and listening to his and Kurloz' ass all my mother. fucking. life. I was so pissed, I just about wanted to tear down the stars and set fire to the world. Broke out my voodoos right then and there, giving you all the most wicked of nightmares, caused the cancer in your session, blew up Jade's tower. New voices telling me I was the true Church, the real Messiahs, up and told me what needed doing. Killing motherfuckers what deserved culling. Be lying if I said I wasn't scared._' He shifts uncomfortably, tilting his head so he's looking away.

'_I went looking for any motherfucker to talk to. Happened on Tavbro's body, all broke up on the floor like a little fiduspawn toy. Tried to kiss him back, but, didn't matter how hard I macked, that motherfucker was done and dusted. Made my head hurt more, and alla that blood...just laying there waiting to be paint...I almost fucking lost it. Did a little painting, even iffen I knew it was wrong. Picked up my computer to troll some fuckers, thinking maybe..._'

He pauses, leaning his head back with a grimace and closing his eyes. '_I still tried to get Karbro to talk my ass down. But he was too damn scared. I motherfucking scared him. Me, his best motherfucking friend. My pale crush for motherfucking ever was scared titless on account of my verbal whimsy. He wouldn't even come and talk to me in person. I was just so gogdamn angry. I threatened, I screamed at the top of my lungs at the computer screen. He didn't even try to calm me down.'_

_'I kinda took off, then. Couldn't decide if I should wait it out, or just give in. Found Terezi's glasses, sent Karbro another message, didn't realize it scared the shit out of him till later. I just wanted him so bad, wanted him to stop all the noise in my stupid ass head. Headed to the monster lab, cuz there was this one...that reminded me of my goatdad. Thought maybe I could wait out the voices, come down on my own.'_

_'Then Karkat...fucking sent Equibro after me. I mean, I know he was dealing with Eridan losing his shit and all, but I didn't even hurt anyone yet. Just threatened cuz I wanted him to stop me. Fucking selfish, I know. But when my bloo-blooded brother showed up, talking this noise about stopping, Karbro sent him to motherfucking CULL ME, I...well. I fucking snapped like the cap off a wicked elixir. Everything I believed in, Karbro, the Church, the Messiahs, my friends, sopor, fucking shit, lies, and blasphemy. Felt like I had nothing left, so I was gonna tear it all the motherfuck apart._'

His voice tapers off to silence, staring blankly at something far away. I watch the replay of what he said, waiting for him to start back up. The pictures shift in an endless slideshow, each bringing in tow a kaleidoscope of emotion, primarily anchored by rage, fear, shame, and a desperate loneliness. I feel a little sick when I watch him killing Equius and Nepeta, again. Wonder if this is the most he's ever talked about that day. My arm goes numb, giving me reason to stand and stretch. Sand hisses against itself as a cool hand rests atop my foot. '_Please stay?_'

The way he says it is just pitiable. I look down at the form before me, a curled-up, sad little ball of Gamzee. Earnestly begging for me to not leave him here, alone. Panic that very clearly isn't mine sets in. I can taste his fear on the air, acrid and stinging, terrified that I'd leave right now because of '_everything I done said in your aurals._'

...Um. That was, interesting. The unfamiliar haze of his fear leaves quickly as Gamzee mutters apologies. '_Sorry, sorry. Harder to control when my bloodpusher's in a twist._' Facing him, I ask quizzically, "What, exactly, happens to be more difficult to control?"

It's his turn to look confused, and he does his part wonderfully. '_The, ah, voodooing? Up and scaring a sister for no good reason, on account of me getting all worked up?_' I shake my head no as I respond. "Scare me? Hardly. If anything, I just felt your fear. A rather unique experience, I must say." He frowns a little, musing. '_Huh. Guessing that's cos you're all up in my pan._'

Well, that confirms my theory that his chucklevoodoo is reflexive. I'm learning all sorts of new things today. It's gogdamn Sesame Street in here. Someone tell me what the letter of the day is. Clearing my throat, (wait, can you clear your throat if you are more or less a non-corporeal imagining of yourself in someone else's brain?) I prompt Gamz to keep going, "I feel there's just a bit more to this story, would you be so kind?"

A twinge of his fear runs through me like a shiver. '_…yeah. Just, gimme a minute._' He curls in on himself further. God forbid there's carbon on his clothes, it may well turn to diamonds. '_You sure you ain't wanting to leave?_' I stop studying the whorls of color on the beach long enough to give him an annoyed/affectionate (anoyfectionate?) stare. "Yes. I'm quite sure. I said I'd listen, there wouldn't be much point in going without the full story told."

He nods, slowly stretching out as relief courses through him. I pad away towards the shoreline. I kinda have a hankering to poke the dead jellyfish. Don't judge me. They are much larger than I had thought, ranging between a tangerine to a watermelon. '_You shouldn't be touching on those, motherfuckers are mad poisonous._' That brings me up short. Never mind, then.

Turning back, I see Gamzee gesturing me over with a grin, '_Be making a motherfucker feel a lot better if you was sitting with him, sister_.' Based on the splayed nature of his sprawl and the suggestive quirk on his lips, I rather think he means on him, not with. Boys and their one-track minds.

Rolling one's eyes should be an Olympic sport. "I think I'll be fine right here, Gamz. Please do continue." He pouts a little, but finally agrees. Another stab of paranoia makes me jump a little. '_Sure thing, Rosesis. Fuck. So, I was saying on how I was super wicked pissed that pretty much motherfucking everything I ever cared about turned out to be a gogdamn lie. All ready to subjugglate like the motherfucking Grand Highblood I'm all born to be like, the Bard of Rage singing sweet songs of mirthful discord._'

He scoots up out of his slouch, bracing his hands on his knees, staring up as he remembers. '_Figured since everyone was all seperate-like around the meteor, might be easier to get my cull on if they was all in the same place. Planned on a little showdown with some motherfuckers. Started with 'Rezi, cause she was the easiest to get to moving with a little bit of wicked whisper-thoughts. She was all thinking Spiderbitch up and killed Tavbro, Kan, Fef, and...everyone else, so I done left her a little love note to come up to the roof for a duel. Almost too easy, really. Set out her old Flarp costume, and that little sharp sister was raring to go and get her cull on. Couldn't even see me and Eridan was responsible for some motherfucking rainbows our own selves._'

I interrupt, "Could you do me a favor and not sound so smug when you're talking about the imminent murder of other trolls? That'd be great, thanks." His eyes widen a bit, nodding quickly. '_You got it, sister.'_ That sounds a little rushed. While I haven't noticed any falsehood, I can tell he's left something out. "Do you mind telling me what you omitted?" He starts guiltily, '_Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Um, look up? And sorry I was curious?_'

I'm dumb, so I look up. To be presented with Terezi's topless form as she changes into her Flarping costume. Of course. Boys. Rubbing a palm over my face to a chorus of his unabashed giggles, I mutter out between my fingers, "Thank you for being honest, Gamzee. Please keep going."

'_Heh. I know you got some dress-down on what all happened near when you and Strider showed up to the meteor, yeah?' _I nod._ 'Thought so. I guess part of being a Rage player...is all about getting your manipulation on of your brethren, betraying some motherfuckers and breaking bonds and shit._'

'_After Equibro and my little cat-sis, I felt...fucking nothing. Hollow as all motherfuck. You already know about Kansis damn near breaking my globes when I tried to take on Eridan and Spiderbitch.' _An involuntary need to cover my nethers flits through my thoughts._ 'Took me awhile to come back from that, but when I woke up and could finally get my walk on, I was near ready to rip apart any motherfucker what got close to me._'

'_Got up to where everyone was all waiting, since their asses still wanted to get to the Green Sun, all rowdy and ready to show some heretical lowblood breathers what the new Messiahs was all about. Guess it was the last straw for my Karbro, finally saw fit to shoosh my ass down._ ' He sounds a little bit bitter, face drawn like it was sucking lemons. '._..but he did. Calmed my narrow clown ass down._' I see them hug for the first time in the skies. It's adorable as fuck.

'_But when he did, I knew I had a lot of motherfucking work ahead of me. He gave me a reason to want to keep on going living. Made me want to protect a motherfucker. Had to figure out how to stop 'Loz and English, without giving myself away. They was mad happy about all the harshwhimsy I brought down on my brothers and sisters, all telling me to keep up the good work. Kept telling me I was worthy of the knowledge what they wanted to give me._'

The time-lapse speeds up, images from the meteor sliding by. Gamzee spending time in the library, reading what Kanaya and I wrote. Hiding from Kan, talking to Karkat. Sitting alone in the dark, worrying. 'S_ome days I felt near fit to bust. But I couldn't give in no more. I promised Karbro I'd never raise a motherfucking hand to nobody ever again. So I started figuring out what all Loz and English was planning, and finding little ways to trip it up, or change it so something they wanted didn't all work out. Motherfuckers almost took away all what I thought was important, and I ain't about to let that shit go down nohow._'

'_Kinda why I scribbled in Equibro's blood in your write-book, sorry. He was a Void player, so his blood would stop anyone from knowing what all I thought and done. Had to hide stuff about myself and such from them, so I could fuck up their little games more. They'd always ask, but I'd pretend I motherfucking forgot. It worked, pretty much. Half the time I was a hella mess, anyways, feeling all guilty over what all I'd done out of stupid fucking loyalty and being a crazy ass clown. Keeping them secrets was motherfucking stressful as all hell. Couldn't tell Karbro, or anyone, cuz if English heard it, he'd find a way to cull them off. Motherfucker hears and sees everything. Hell, if he knew what I was doing, he'd probably drop on in on us and light up some sharp miracles what to snuff us out with._'

'_When I finally got a chance to meet this here fine chica,' _a picture of me laughing shows up, _'I knew I was in for some of the best of motherfucking miracles. You was made for helping this tall motherfucking drink of sopor, and you did. Got this thinkpan mine put right back together, mostly. I mean, I don't think I'll ever really forgive myself, but, you know, just caring about a motherfucker made a big damn difference. When you told me I might actually be able to help us win, damn. Happiest day of my long-ass life. Wanted to kiss you right then and there, but I figure you wouldn't be all keen on that._' He stops long enough to give me a wicked grin. '_Gave you a little show, instead._'

Ignoring my grumpy glare, he speaks again, '_Put my sabotage in overdrive then, getting the music-boxes from 'Radia's ancestor really helped. Could shoot back and forth to figure out what all I needed to do next. What worked and what didn't. Figured out that if I carried around a vial of Equibro's blood, not even English would know what I was doing._' He sounds ridiculously proud of that fact. '_Been trying to get Karbro to wear one, but he calls me gross. Guess I deserve that. Anyroads, most the time I'm not with you or Karbro, I'm trying to work out what all will screw the big L.E. over next. Motherfucker betrayed the wrong gogdamn clown, that's for sure.'_

So I was right. He is a master manipulator, of sorts. But he's not actively trying to do so now. To me, anyway. It's both a relief and annoyance, since I saw none of this coming. None of it. But that still doesn't answer my original fucking query: WHY THE HELL AM I IN ^YOUR^ BRAIN, ON THE FUCKING UGLY COUCH?!

* * *

Note: Thanks Maria! I'm glad you've enjoyed everything so far, and have ridonkoulous amounts of thanks for your kind words!

Note: Thanks Ed! You absolutely flatter me!

Note: Thanks JK! I'm glad you liked this chapter!

Note: Thanks KIMI! Promise to tell you where the body is soon!

Note: Thanks Sorrow! I'm well, and yeah, that's my favorite part of the chapter too!


	57. Chapter 57

In the inimitable silence that followed, I pinch the bridge of my nose and mull over everything that's been said. The viewing room feels like a wound that's been recently cleaned, but still has some viscera to expel. He knew and felt loyal to English and Kurloz. He more or less sacrificed his entire planet to them. All of those people...trolls...he didn't think of them once. Just his friends. Passion that blinding is troubling.

It wasn't until Dave's revelations, and Scratch's subsequent calling him a sucker that he lost faith. His years of abuse, his loyalties broken, made for a poisonous concoction. He tried to stop himself from snapping, but in the end lost the battle. Karkat kinda screwed the pooch on that one, but that does not excuse his behavior. It makes his friends no less dead.

Gamzee sits perfectly still, head in hands. He may or may not be sobbing. I'm not quite ready to console him yet. Think, LaLonde! He's definitely remorseful, but that is the equivalent of saying 'I'm sorry' after ripping the wings off a fly. Nothing grows back or changes, other than sentiment.

He wants to work against English, and has been doing so actively since our arrival to the meteor. Carrying the vial of blood, though disgusting, is actually a rather good idea. I'll have to see about weaponizing that, or at least convincing others it's a viable plan. How to do that without English noticing, I have no idea.

I run a hand through my hair, damn I need to cut it again, and stare at the sky. It's devoid of memories at the moment, just abundantly full of stars. The moons have moved up to half-mast, burning brightly as a pair of colored hard candies.

I now understand so much, and at the same time know even less. There is no black or white in this situation. Only grey, and it's frustrating. My sense of moral ethics feels raw and turned upside down. He's committed atrocities, both with evil and good intent. He's manipulated events to his favor. He wants to help us win the game through sabotage of our enemy, who may or may not find out about it. He loves me.

I'm running myself in circles, and I'm starting to get damn tired of it. There's more to this story, and I'd like to be done so I can go rest. Shuffling over to Gamzee and leaning against him, I ask, "Are you okay to keep going?"

A face with lavender trails and runny makeup peeks up from underneath his mess of curls. He sniffles a little, '_Thinking so, Rosesis._' My insides are at war with one another, my brain screaming to get away, my heart...well. It's not always such a good idea to listen to something without neurons.

He snuggles a little closer, resting his head on top of mine. ' _I'm guessing you're wanting to know how you all ended up on the couch, yea?_' I hum in agreement. If I nod I'm going to get jabbed in the eye with a big pointy ear or a horn. Neither is an appealing option.

'_First, gotta say somethin. I know I done some bad motherfucking wrong. Got a lot of people killed or hurt. I ain't no good guy. Don't wanna be bad, neither. Like my sharp-sister says, justice is gonna find my ass, someday. I hope it does. Want all this bullshit to be over, whatever happens to me on account of it._'

I feel him shake with an ill-contained sob, '_I just want, for once in my motherfucking life, to live without regret or feeling so damn alone it hurts._' He rubs the side of his face in my hair, breathing deeply to calm himself. I...really don't know what to say. My armchair psychology did not prepare me for an admission like that. Does he want to die? Live? Knowing little else, I slide a hand down his back, rubbing soothing circles. He sighs in appreciation as he continues.

'_I was talking on how to gets started on messing over English, and I figure the best I can do right now is just play along to figure out his wicked sharp mysteries. So, I kinda still have to do stuff for him, even if I'm not wanting to._' Unease settles in the room as he keeps talking.

'_Like today. You know I reached God tier, but he doesn't. All he knows is that everyone watched a big damn meteor crash into ours. When I woke up this morning,_' he squirms a little next to me, '_all what was on my think pan was you. Sorry I surprised your ass, by the way. Bulge was doing more thinking than the rusted pan upstairs._'

A muted moan starts, and is quickly suppressed. '_Sorry, sorry. Damn. Could you, ah..._' I get the hint, moving away to a respectable distance. '_Motherfuck this is hard. Er, um, difficult. Anyroads, I was saying, the bubble came up a right shock for me._'

The scene of his hasty expulsion from my room plays out in front of me. Gamzee lands in a purple hallway adorned with the insignia of the Rage player. Kurloz's booming voice rings in command, "Yo, my wicked motherfucking ninja, best be on the receiving end of your fine ass regalia. It be the final piece, and the Angel of Double death deems it is Money." Gamzee follows the hallway, making a few wrong turns, before finally finding his ecto-sibling? Cousin? What the fuck ever.

'_Loz and me was collecting pieces of the Bard God Tier costume for motherfucking ever. His kittyb..uh, ex-matepririt, found the cod-piece today, and he was all anxious-like to get his handing over on it on. I'm thinking English got the thought if I put the clothes on, it will turn me God Tier. Doubt magical undies would do that, but whatever. I already am._'

'_I got me some ideas on why he wants me all rowdied up, but I ain't knowing why, exactly.' T_he first sign of deception hits me like a truck. It actually hurts, little shards of ice shooting behind my eyelids. Should I call him out on it, or get the rest of the story? He's quick to notice, a soft tickle at the edge of my consciousness tasting whether or not I believe him. Chagrin. Giving me a nervous side-long glance,_ 'Not sounding like the brightest of rainbow-truth, is it?_'

Giving him a dubious glare, I respond with a hiss, "No." I stand, dusting off my outfit. Some of the anger from earlier starts to bubble back up, ugly tar-covered balloons.

'_Wait! Wait! I can explain, motherfucker._' I stop, but won't look. '_Sorry. It's just that...fuck. I was really motherfucking hoping that shit would go over._' That's true. '_I'm...not really ready to drop all that noise on English's designs yet._' Nope. He's ready, he just doesn't want to. I give him the best stink-eye in my arsenal. My mom used it on me all the time, and it was horrifying. The sky takes on the reddish hue of stress.

With a defeated sigh, he gives in. '_Fine. Fine, motherfuck._' He stretches out, trading stares with me. '_He wants me to join his crew up and personal-like soon. I ain't got a lot of time left on this motherfucking rock. Wants that I should be helping his ass get ready for the fight after the Void session. If I don't...well..._'

A replay of English's destruction of the dream-bubble flashes across the sky, the minor difference being his rage-boner is pointed at the meteor, not innocent ghosts. His voice sounds sepulchral, '_Won't be a good motherfucking day for anyone._' I have no idea when I sank back onto the sand, but the chill on my ass and the wet on my cheeks tell me I'm a little floored. A lot floored. I'm one with the floor. The floor is me.

He hovers next to me in uncertainty, '_Rosesis?_' An IED just took out my heart, hollowing out my chest cavity. I'm numb. The bomb squad didn't cut the right wire, and I'm bleeding out. I'm not some silly girl that gets devastated when her boyfriend leaves her, moping for months on end. Still hurts like a bitch, though. Why didn't I see this? Whirr-click goes my brain.

Oh. Void blood pendant. He's troll Angelina Jolie. The thought is so absurd, I snort a little. He moves his weight from foot to foot, '_Sister? You gonna talk at me or mutter to yourself and laugh?_' I tug his pant-leg till he sits down next to me.

I shove his shoulder a little when his butt hits the sand. "Sorry. You just dropped a shitstorm of a bomb on me. Color me shocked."

He pats my hair affectionately. '_I know. Wasn't wanting to tell you on account a making you all upset-like. You wanna hear the rest, or do you need a breather?_' A breather sounds very tempting. I could inhale all the air in this damn meteor and not have enough of one, though. A new emptiness has taken residence, and it's not going to be filled anytime soon. Especially not with air.

Doing my best to keep the quaver out of my voice, I intone softly, "I'd rather hear the rest of your tale, if it's all the same to you, Gamzee." He throws an arm around my shoulder, squeezing and pulling me as close as he can.

'_Me and him, we got a deal. Ain't knowing if he'll actually follow through on that shit like a true motherfucking ninja, but it's pretty much all I got right now. I work for him, help him win, he lets the people I motherfucking love the most live._'

The two obligatory pictures scuttle across the sky in succession. '_He don't have to know I ain't on the level. I just gotta be all working with him and finding new ways to trip up his crew of bad-ass motherfuckers. Maybe find a way to drop a note or two to my fine sister. Not much of one for planning. Just try to do what all is right in my blood-pusher, mamacita_.' Why does that not surprise me.

I wedge myself under his chin before talking, "While I agree that having someone on the inside would be most advantageous, how do you know you won't lose yourself as you have before?"

He doesn't even stop to think about it, the bastard. Tapping me on the side with a featherlight touch, he breathes into my hair, '_Coz a you._' OMFG. JFC. ;aldjf;salkfj. I am not kissing someone when I am in their brain. I will not smooch someone while I am a guest in their neural passages.

He continues, oblivious to my mini-breakdown. '_You put this pan to rights, and I ain't about to lose it again. You and Karbro, that's something to believe in. That's motherfucking family. Ain't fake. I drop off this motherfucking unicycle, I lose everything._' He squeezes a little possessively, his voice a dark growl, '_I'll see English in Echo Side 'fore that happens._'

Right then. Be still, my hormonal teenage heart. I'm not entirely assured, but if he believes it...sure. '_Now, where the fuck was I before I got motherfucking distracted with your cute ass?_' I can hear the mischief in his words, sly bugger.

"I believe you were regaling me of the story of how I ended up on your lap in the living room." I say this to his neck, which is probably not a good idea.

'._..Right. 'Loz gave me the codpiece, and I kinda told him the motherfuck off and made tracks back to you. Or I thought I would, went to the place where you was when the bubble began, but you weren't there. Fact, couldn't locate hide nor hair of you nowheres in dreamland. Figured you musta woke up, so I waited for it to pass. Couldn't find my palebro none, either. Heard him yell a few times, but didn't see him. Loud little motherfucker._'

'_Think he was on the run from that fish-chick Meenah. Prolly. Eventually, the bubble broke, and I woke up all comfortable-like on your lap. Tried to wake you up, but...you couldn't right yet._' A first person vision bursts in the sky of his many attempts to wake me.

Pokes to the face, a shake, a kiss on the nose, with little or no response. '_Something didn't feel right, so I kinda pushed open your see-bulb? Sorry if it was gross, but that's when I saw it._' My eye is on display, purple as the codpiece on his God Tier uniform.

'_Motherfucker Kurloz put you under some sharp motherfucking chucklevoodoo. Meant for you to never wake up from your nightmare whisper-thoughts. Pissed me off something outrageous, but I didn't have no time to waste._'

His panicked fingers wave over my prone body, feeling helpless. I feel him make the decision to intrude on my thoughts with trepidation. A replay of his words whips through the room, "Really motherfucking sorry for this, chica." He delves deep into the black abyss, and I hear my own screams of pain and terror, the echoing laughter of my abusers.

He pulls back out with a gasp like a receding tide. His anger laps against my mind as he howls, "Motherfuck" and gathers me up to hurry me out of the room.

'_I didn't trust myself none to be in the room alone with you. I was so motherfucking pissed that someone...hurt you. Not that I'd be snapping like a old twig or nothing, just didn't wanna mess up your room. Ain't tied a mad on like that in a long motherfucking time._' He stops outside of the living room, putting me to my feet.

'_Took you over long enough to get you to walk to the couch and lay down with me. Figured everybody would be upset if I carried you in all human-bride style. Once I got you all cuddled up, I had to go back in. Chucklevoodoos are kinda dangerous._' No shit Sherlock.

'_Works like this, a voodoo-thought can be passing, like if you wanna slow down a motherfucker in a fight, or let someone hear your noise. Or if a down-ass ninja is up for it, they can make a voodoo permanent, and the victim won't never wake up. Some of the Subjuglators back home on Alternia would do that before they got their cull on, an almost mercy. Won't feel the blows, just be stuck in your head._'

He pauses as he shows me what he saw and did. My face heats up to the surface temperature of the sun. I want to die, right now. Please, magnificent gogs of the Void, strike me down. He. Saw. Everything. Each unwanted encounter. Every pinch, punch, and kick. All of the fear I felt when they pushed me onto the mattress, the pain when they used me. I never meant for anyone to know about that. Distantly, I feel the taste of adrenaline and panic in my mouth.

I feel a twisting pain in his gut, a physical need to be sick, as he slowly works the tendrils of Kurloz' magic away from the worst of my memories. '_Took at least an hour. I'm really motherfucking sorry, sister. Didn't mean to be peeking in on your personal biz, but I couldn't leave it. If I did, you'd be stuck like that forever. I'm so motherfucking sorry, chica._'

His sweeping urge to protect me does little to push away the roaring in my ears. I can't talk, or think. Hell, I'm not even capable of movement right now, paralyzed by mortification. If I were awake, I'd probably be a rocking, babbling fool. '_After I was done is when you woke up. You know the rest, I'm guessing._'

Gamzee doesn't push for a reaction, nor does he talk needlessly. He pulls me into his lap slowly, telegraphing that it would be fine if I needed to pull away. Cradling me in his arms, he presses me to his chest, his throat already full of the whispering hum of music. In all their gentleness, his limbs are loose, giving me room to take off. Like he expects it. For once in my miserable life, I don't run.

I feel broken. I'm empty, so far beyond pain and pleasure that the rest of existence feels like white noise. I wonder if that's what subspace feels like. Nothing is real right now. Literally. I can't decide if I want to lose my shit and tear down the universe or curl up into a ball and die. In some corner of my mind, I know I'm supposed to be comforting Gamzee, not the other way around. But nothing works as it should in paradox space, I've come to find. The worst part is that I know he has more to say.

Suddenly, he wiggles under me, muttering a curse. '_Shit, sister, we gotta get our move on._' I raise a brow in question as he answers, '_Time shit. Gotta be somewhere and do some things._'

Puffing out my cheeks before pulling back in mistrust, "You're not going to discuss this with me why, exactly?"

He smooths a curl of hair out of my face and tucks it behind my ear before popping a kiss on my forehead. '_Checked already, can't tell you. Lotta what I gotta up and do before I leave I can't get my jabber on about, would mess up the time-lines something fierce._' Just because he's telling the truth doesn't mean I won't get annoyed about it. His eyes crinkle in mirth, catching the starlight just so. '_Promise to tell you when I can?_'

It's not like I have a choice. With a resigned, "Sure," he stands us up and walks me back out of his hive. The storm has died down to an eerie mist, strange animals call to one another in the distance.

He pauses at the barrier, which has miraculously re-appeared, as he cautions me. I don't know if it's my leaving his consciousness that's making him anxious, or something else. '_You're gonna have one motherfucker of a headache when you wake up. It's part of the voodoos, sorry. Me and 'Loz mucked around in there what good. Just do what comes natural-like to you, k? I'ma be...somewhere. Be careful when you get up._' I nod, stepping through the barrier as he whispers a goodbye.

I'm finally alone in my head. Gogdamn do I need a drink. Several drinks. All of the drinks that can be made, ever. Standing up woozily, I hurry to the library.

* * *

Thanks to Vamp Kimi! Ahahaha I'll never tell. (Until I update) *evil cackle*

Thanks to Chairisse! Thank you ever so much for your kind words, I'm very flattered!

Thanks to the guest who offered fanart! I'm so excited to see how it turns out! *edit* Thanks JK! Hit me with a pm when you're ready and we'll figure out how to trade and stuff.

Thanks guest, I'm not giving up on this fic, I'm just bogged down with Nanowrimo. It's a couple of more days, and then I should be done with it and post a new chapter. I'm really, really sorry for the long ass wait, everybody.

Thanks Anon! I never thought I would, either, but somehow it just made sense. Weirdly. I'm sorry I havent updated lately, I'm just off Nanowrimo, and I'm sick as a dog right now. I'll try to get something going in the next few days.


	58. Chapter 58

1) Sorry the update took so damn long. 2) Sorry it's a short chapter. But I didn't want to break things up, for reasons.

3) JK, or MissShaye, is making fan-art of this story and I am. So. Freaking. Excited. I'll find a way to post it, eventually.

* * *

My head is the wrath of Ragnarok wrapped around barbed wire with tufts of gauze dipped in gasoline and on fire. With a groan, I open my eyes to find the living room abandoned by all parties, and thankfully, very, very, dark. Stumbling towards the library with a hand trailing against the grey wall, I contemplate how to best make a fermented beverage to erase the last two or so hours from my mind forever.

...Wow. That was the worst response to emotional trauma ever. Maybe I am my mother's daughter after all. The light in the library slowly approaches as I muse. Yes, she was a reprehensible guardian. She did not know, for the life of her, how to properly care for a child, and turned a blind eye to my abusers. Mother drank to ease her conscience, to dull her pains like any other addict. She drank to forget she was a bitter single mother with a meteor baby.

She drowned herself in alcohol because I reminded her of who she was when she was younger. Granted, a fucked-up ecto-sibling version, but her nonetheless. I'll never know whether or not she remembered her scratched iteration, but if my investigations into the mechanics of the game hold true, probably not. Despite her failings, she tried in her own twisted and strange ways. I can come to terms with that. Wow. Deep not drunk thoughts. That needs to change.

Dave is, as per usual, mumbling to himself in a corner with my former journal. It seems he's been on his lonesome more often than not lately. Something about Terezi's absence skeeves me, but I can't quite put my finger on it. It rankles and teases, but won't come to the surface. A tinge of teal across my memories.

Sitting at a desk furthest from my companion, I try, to the best of my cotton-filled head, to divine how to make ^something^ to ease the ache. Both mental and physical. We've tried alchemizing alcohol before, and just like pills for Gamzee, we either ended up with empty bottles or goo. So...what to do .Alcohol is produced by fermentation. Yes.

Okay, fine. I'm focusing on this so I don't have to think of...other things. Fuck you I'm allowed to run away from my own brain by killing it one cell at a time. It's my body, I'll do what I want! ^huff huff^ Who the hell am I talking to?

Right. Fermentation. It is my friend. If I cannot alchemize what I want...I have to make it. I remember, from fuckall forever ago, an awful documentary about people who lived in the Jackson Whites in Georgia. The story of their abject poverty was riveting in it's own right, but what stands out to me now is how they made their money. Home-made liquor. Omg I'm going to be the best backwoods hick ever.

Pulling out my husktop, I quickly pull up schemata for a personal still, alchemizing the parts as I go along. It's surprisingly easy to put together, all things said and done. Kanaya returns to the meteor, triumph written all over her face. And a fish princess. And no glow...mhn...=(

She quickly regales me with the story of finally meeting her ancestor, who was 'impressive' but not nearly as 'intimidating' as she thought she would be. Apparently they had discussed the role their caste on the hemospectrum played on Alternia/Beforus, insomuch that they were limited in the choices they could make in life. Vis a vis be a mother figure or be a mother figure.

Understandably, her predecessor felt the urge to buck the system of feminine oppression and find a path of her own. Though she also admits that if one is to choose such a path it can be a source of strength as well. It's endlessly fascinating how our two societies are both alike and dissimilar. That's great and all, but I'm not drunk yet. And I need to be. Very. Much. The clanging and clashing of everything I've learned over the last few hours, and the things I don't want to remember, make me a bit of a jittery mess.

My poker face is a big ball of fail, much to my surprise. Kanaya sees right through it, pulling me to the side to ask me to meet her for a jam later before running off after Meenah. Probably to keep her out of trouble. I could ever tell Kan what I know, but...it couldn't hurt to talk about other things. Maybe. If I can get up the liquid courage.

The aquatic princess practically pounces on Dave, though I doubt anything of use will come of the conversation. Muffled rap music floats over from their direction. Predictably, it's awful and laced with fish-puns. I might be dying inside, just a little.

Dave eventually wanders over to me, inquiring to the purpose of my activities. I respond with a bit of ire in my voice, "Making tasty beverages."

Of course, his immediate response, "Please let it be aj please let it be aj..." Ruffling his hair and calling him a dork, I assure him I'll try to concoct his beverage of choice. He intones something under his breath before retreating to his corner. Sounded like 'don't hate.' Just like Gamzee's obsession with Faygo, Dave's craving for apple juice knows no bounds.

Hmm. Speaking of Faygo...Perhaps I can speak to the master of such beverages. Faygo comes in bottles, ergo he must be alchemizing them from somewhere...

Dave and Meenah are still enthusiastically, awfully, rapping when I bumble my way out of the room unnoticed. I sincerely hope this isn't what a hangover feels like. Perhaps I should reconsider my options.

A quick Push of energy, despite the haranguing headache it gives me, pinpoints Gamzee's presence on the meteor. A room behind the library, which seems to also harbor the sleeping body of Karkat. Huh. It's like he's protecting him. What from?

I may or may not use the wall as a constant companion in my trek to the little room behind the library. Just like any other part of a meteor inhabited by teenagers, it's a righteous mess. Karkat's passed out in a huge pile of bike horns. In all the time we've spent together, I've yet to get a reasonable explanation as to why the trolls consider such things comfortable. I know we're dealing with dream-bubble shenanigans, but I don't recall there being rules about how one behaves when physically in the bubble itself. There probably aren't any.

Gamzee is leaning on his palms, reclining as one who is a mess of angular planes can. Thoughts of asking him about the mysterious source of his Faygo fade when I see the serious set to his features. My sneaking suspicions that there was more to be discussed are confirmed in the defensive set of his shoulders, the downward curl of his lips. Well. This sure looks like it's going to be fun. Sweet merciful Gogs of the Void. I'm 2000% done with serious conversation, 5ever. Steps coming to a faltering halt, I stand before my verbal executioner, arms crossed in front of my chest.

* * *

Note: Thanks Vampkimi! I am so, so sorry this is a short chapter! And yes...things are going to be...interesting...*cackle*

Note: Thanks Chairisse! If I can keep you and your moirail bouncing up and down in joy, then I am clearly doing my job!

Note: Thanks JK! *hurk* oh god no I can't draw. That announcement was for youuuuu.

Note: Thanks, Aurineko! I love that you picked up onfamily tendencies and addiction! Have a good day!


	59. Chapter 59

I'm not even drunk enough to deal with a serious Gamzee. That shouldn't even be a thing that exists. I try for indifference, a dry smile quirking up my lips. It would be a snarl, but my head just hurts too much to manage it. "You better not let Kanaya find you in here." Lately she's been less than kind with Gamzee. It might be the heat thing. Or a moirail thing. I don't really know.

He doesn't contribute, face imitating what I imagine it would look like if he were introduced to lemons. Try for levity. "She still dislikes you, you know. And not in 'that way'. I think she still truly would like to kill you."

Gamzee scowls, drawing his knees to his chest with a huff. "Yeah, I all up and motherfuckin know that already." Welp. This conversation is going from bad to worse. A beat or two of silence passes as I try to decide what to say next. Nervous, predatory energy pours off him in waves.

Ask something innocent. "I've wondered, doesn't it ever get confusing? Trying to differentiate between platonic, malicious intent, and gestures of black romance?" Surely he's debated this with Karkat? Moirail territory has to be safe, yeah?

Nope. His voice takes on the now too familiar shout-whisper of his murder quirk. "NO. like i'd even give a dayglow chainsaw bitch like that on my time of day up in any quadrant." Okay then. There is definitely something afoot here, I just...don't know what, exactly.

My question is quickly answered, much to my chagrin. "BESIDES, ALREADY GOT MY BLACK ROM ON WITH ANOTHER MOTHERFUCKER." The words come out like a harsh whip-crack, stinging with precision. He winces, looking away, babbling on, "been dating somebody in the motherfuckin shadows. getting pretty nasty between us. All experiencing the shit out of the dark miracle called hatebliss." Be cool, LaLonde. Do. Not. Pimpslap. Him. Even if you really want to. The bottom of a highball glass is most definitely calling my name, now.

I close my eyes for a split second, focusing myself. Rationalize, woman! This is what trolls do, how they roll. I will not go Grimdark. I will not go Grimdark...just. no. It's stupid to lose your mind over something so petty. That's right LaLonde, shrug off that emotion and bottle it up. It'll come back tenfold later. Good Job.

Augh. I ask, because I must hate myself. "Wait, really? Are you serious?" Maybe he was kidding. Yes. That might be a thing.

Yea, no. He stares at his knees and answers, "do I mother fucking look like i'd motherfuckin joke around with a mother fucker?" This is the shittiest day ever. Not that it wasn't already bad, but this is like, the giant turd cherry on a massive elephant-dung sundae. I try to guess who the target of his black quadrants would be, giggling manically when I mention Dave. To each he gives an enigmatic smile and a no. Who is left? "...Terezi?" His shit eating grin widens maliciously.

I no longer have blood, veins pumping ice and adrenaline. How could he do this, to Karkat? I know he could care less about Dave...but how could she be so careless? Surely she understands that human dating is vastly different? Do they have an understanding? Has Dave betrayed me by omitting the truth? The possibilities of his implications are dizzying.

Struggling for neutrality, my eyes go to half-mast, arms crossed defensively, back ram-rod straight. It reminds me of arguing with my mother. Despite my efforts, my voice is still a venomous drawl, "I can't even parse that relationship as something meaningful." That wipes off his stupid smile. I make an offhanded comment about how quadrants make social interaction difficult. He agrees wholeheartedly, with a tic of relief washing over him. Oh just wait, motherfucker. This isn't over.

He explains it to me as patiently as he would a child, if he knew what one was and didn't immediately cull it for being weak, "SHE ALL GETS ON HER HATE OF ME QUITE UNDERSTANDABLY, SEEING AS TO WHAT A VILE PIECE OF CLOWN ASS TRASH I'M ALL IS." It doesn't escape my notice that his voice drops as he continues, "but doesn't quite hate me enough to want to kill me." He grins like a shy sunbeam darting out of the clouds, bright but quickly hidden.

It's taking everything I have to not scream at him. This conversation has to end. Soon. My lip juts as I remark, "This is a really startling revelation, I must say." I am the empress of understatement. Bow to me. His face takes on the sharp twist of a knife, looking away as he blurts how he's afraid of Karkat finding out, that Kar might actually want to kill him. To the best of my ability, I just nod and hum, waiting for his anxious rambling to just. stop.

He finally finishes, and despite the fact I want to rip him limb from limb, I shoo him into the ventilation ducts, to avoid confrontation with Kanaya. If anyone is going to tear him a new one, it's going to be me. Gamzee looks back with uncertainty, looking for all the world as if he wants to say more. I prompt him to get climbing with a wave of my hands because there is simply no way I could take more revelations tonight. I'm done. Goodnight, thanks for coming, tip your waiters and waitresses.

If there was a bar in paradox space, I would drink all of it. Every. Last. Drop. The grate clangs shut behind him, and the scrape of his hands and knees through the shaft soon fades to nothing. I'm alone with my thoughts, and I'm not particularly grateful for it. Thunder-cracks of betrayal and wrath battle against the agonized pulp of my brain.

I take my time walking back to the library, wary of the potential of Gamzee marking my progress through the halls via the grates. I refuse to betray my upset to the rest of the world. Meenah and Kanaya are gone, and I don't really give a damn. I'm barely holding on. Dave gives me an ironic coolkid, "Sup."

I indulge him with an incline of my head, striding purposefully back to the still. Talking isn't going to happen right now. He's content to let well enough alone, doodling and muttering. The fact he isn't with Terezi both terrifies and enrages me. I want to break something so badly. I focus on making fermented beverages instead. Because that's totally healthy.

A final troll makes her way through the library, dressed as a schoolgirl. Shockingly polite, though I can barely understand her through her broken English. Maybe not all trolls are assholes. Just the ones I happen to be stuck with. Well. Maybe not Karkat. He's not an asshole, just shouty and vulnerable.

The burden of knowledge presses against me as I viciously shake distillates in a flask. I can't even close my eyes to escape these thoughts. Flashes of their bodies tangled in flagrante delecto splash against the backs of my lids in a crude, cruelly lurid mural. It makes me want to explode a sun, or defecate a honey badger. My nails dig into my arm a little too harshly as I place my current experiment back over the Bunsen burner.

Beads of red rise the the surface, and though I know it to be terribly fucked up, it's a relief. A distraction. However, such is a slippery slope. Cutting oneself is a difficult habit to hide, especially when all of your favorite places are right out in the open. I slowly unfurl each finger, relishing the welling of red in each crescent cut, but acknowledging it isn't something I can do now. As much as I'd like to fall back on old habits, I'm just not up for the lectures. A scowl breaks over my face as I remember my first video-chat with John. How he freaked out, lectured me for hours. Took the excitement out of seeing that buck-toothed dweeb, for sure. Even if I hate to admit he was right.

The flask bubbles and shakes in it's holder, begging for my attention. With a pair of tongs, I gingerly draw it down, pouring a small amount of the concoction inside into a mug I have handy. The first few tries were absolutely abysmal. Pinching my nose, I take a quick, scalding sip. The burn is...perfect. Heat and purge of alcohol, pure and bitter, slide down to my gullet in victory. Time to develop new bad habits. Wouldn't mother be proud.

* * *

Note: Thanks for all the ideas, Vampkimi! Trust me, there is so. much. jamming coming in the near future. So much.

Note: Thanks Maria! I'm so, so sorry for not making your korro-korro go doki doki. =(

Note: Thanks Chairisse! I know, I know. This is why we can't have nice things!

Note: Thanks Miss Shaye! Therapy and bonding...yesssss...

Note: Thanks Aurineko! Explosive is a good word. =0)


	60. Chapter 60

A/N: I'm really sorry about the speed of these updates. They're just being little shits about coming out. Just. Take me out behind the shed and flog me for incompetence or something. Stuff not said out loud is in italics.

* * *

Thoughts whip around my head at a breakneck pace. I sip, try to forget. Close my eyes, focus on the darkness behind them. Attempt triage on the void opening wide in the center of my being. It's laughable, really. Were people capable of detecting metaphorical states of being, those around me on the meteor would surely be horrified. Internal organs making riot of a gaping wound of splintered ribs and meat isn't something anyone wants to see. Bitterness, saline, and fermentation are the three pillars of my being. My name is Rose LaLonde, and I'm pretty sure I hate everything right now.

I measured the time it takes for one to become completely shitfaced off of the meteoric version of White Lightning. Half hour, three minutes. Ha. I'm turning into Dave. Perhaps I'd make a better Knight of Time than I would Seer of Light. It's not like I saw any of today's events coming, nor am I particularly bright at this time. Useless ass 'seeing the most fortuitous path.' Fortuitous for whom, might I ask? Sure as hell isn't for me. The siren call of self-abuse and loathing draws the cup to my lip for penance.

Four cupfuls. That's the magic number for a semi-blissful buzz. The people on the Jackson White documentaries were not fucking around when they said the lightning was for sipping, not swallowing whole. When I tried that with the first cup I thought I was being brought on a bower to Jegus himself. Shit's straight up suicide in large doses.

My cares and worries, though many, fall to a pleasant and distant whisper as I totter back to my room, a flask-ful keeping me company in my travels. There's a shit ton to think about, and not nearly enough alcohol to drown it out. Sadly, my thoughts seem stuck in a perpetual cycle of 'oh fuck he knows he knows HE KNOWS' with a piquant of 'WHAT THE FUCK, GAMZEE.' I mean. He didn't lie. But he omitted. But that's how trolls work. Re: Kanaya and her black boner for Gamzee. BUT MOTHERFUCK. Why her? He's working for English. But he doesn't want to. He's trying to help. Even if it is fucked up and weird. He's leaving soon. But I still have a lot to say. And do. Like now. Drinking my problems away. SLUUURRRRRPPPP. _Go away go away go awayyyyyyyy gdi_.

Stupid Terezi. Stupid, fuck. Shit. Speaking of Dave, doesn't he want applejuice? But, I'd have to make apples. How do make apples? Stumbling through the hatch, I note that the room is dark as I had left it. That doesn't make me feel particularly comfortable, tbh. Putting the lights on the lowest setting I can stand and locking the door behind me, I give absolutely no fucks as I strip down to skin on the way to my wardrobifier. I swear to the Kringlefucker itself if anyone is in here I'll blast them to smithereens.

That tree was so stupid. Pffft. Dave is stupid and he loves Harleeeyyyyyyy. But. Terezi. I don't, um. Wow that alkie-hol is kicking in. Thoughts are hard. And I am so not about to have ideas about relationships. Or Terezi. Stupid blue bony bitch. Just the color teal makes my blood boil. Nope. Not thinking.

Taking a burning, far too large dose of my personal medicine, I stare at the contents of my wardrobe. Wardrobes go to Narnia. What I wouldn't do to talk to Mr. Tumnus. Satyrs are half goat. So are sea-goats. Which represents Capricorn. Goddammit. Bigger sip. Fuck shit dammit cunt cock ass tits! The evil ferment burns and tingles all the way down, carbonation on fire. Just. Fuck. Focus on not focusing on anything, LaLonde.

Kanaya said something about meeting up later tonight. She's always classy as fuck, right? Mebbe I can be classy, too. And kiss her on the lips. She's pretty. Hic. Wow. No. That's not something moirails do, right? What's that Karkat's always saying when Dave calls Gamzee his boyfriend? You don't pail your palemate? Or something. I dunno. I. Fuck. Uh. Stop thinking about him! Think about anything else! I'm getting cold standing in front of a closet full of clothing. That's what I'm doing. This stuff is definitely an inhibition remover. Fff.

Panties. Bra. Good. Now for some chic as hell attire. The offerings nearest the front of the wardrobe don't really appease my need for classiness. I miss going to class. Maybe not the walking through the school hallways in a manic rush of people that smell distinctly of prepubescent hormones and sweat, perhaps, but the actually going and learning bit. Holy shit I hope I'm not a maudlin drunk. Climbing up and into the wdfier, I part rack after rack of clothing, making my way to the furthest ring of stored threads.

The final rack in is where I keep the nicest of my collection, honestly. And, you know, a few items that shouldn't see the light of day. That are locked in secret shelves. Where they will stay forever. Sigh. What's fashionable enough to appease a daygl- gah. Shiny vampire? Something bright. I need bright. No black little dress. Too formal.

A beam of yellow and orange buried neath something that looks like a godawful purple taffeta and lace thing Kan must have snuck in here at some point catches my eye. Perfect. A halter-top dress that looks as if it were based off my sun-sari. Even has little crystals around the neck. So freakin adorable. It slides over my skin like water, smooth to the touch. Wow I'm not going to be able to stop touching myself, this fabric is awesome. I snag a plain pair of black kitten heels on the way back out of the closet, sliding them on when I hop back onto the floor. Ugh. My head hurts.

The buzz is wearing off, letting slip the things best forgotten in an inky cloud of rushing fear and pain.

It's enough to knock the wind out of my lungs and drag me to the floor. There's not enough in the flask to hold it off anymore. Flashes, quick and sharp, sting and needle their way to the front of my throbbing brain. Mother. Nameless, faceless abusers. The hurt. The game. Gamzee. Terezi. I crumple like a poorly folded napkin on the floor, filled with intense self-loathing and despair.

It's all my fault, anyway. I didn't scream loud enough. Never explained myself properly to her. Couldn't stop myself from going Grimdark, hubris marking the true cause of their and my death. Didn't keep a professional fucking distance, marring a potentially good patient-therapist relationship. I'm the screw-up. It's me. Hugging my knees, I give in and let silent tears slip down my face. I'm putting on makeup later anyway. No-one will know. The self-hatred burns bright, cutting through all defenses like soda through sugar cubes.

Eventually, I crawl over to the foot of the bed, the start of my troubles today, and just thud the back of my head against the mattress. A hollow numbness makes everything ache inside me. Gogs of the Void, I'm pitiful. What I wouldn't do for a sharp blade to let some of this...ugly throbbing soul...out. Nope. Nope nope nope. There are trolls on board, and they smell blood like sharks in water. I'll have to settle for the deep burn of alcohol and dead brain cells. Either way, I'm only hurting myself. To be honest, I prefer it that way. I deserve it.

Maybe it is an ancient curse of the horrorterrors, to poke fun at my pretentious attempts to salvage a game that I'm quite sure will only end in our destruction, anyway. Holy fuck I'm a miserable drunk. Or I'm not drunk enough. Either could be equally true. Honks echo through the air-vents, an unpleasant reminder of why I happen to be in the present state of mind I am. Fuck him. And not literally. I swear to the tentacled beasts that live in the beyond if I hear a cackle with that honk, I *will * tear apart this meteor. Closing my eyes to listen, it seems as if they're fading. HONK. honk. honk. ...silence. I don't know whether to be relieved, perturbed, or creeped out. Probably all three.

Options. I can stay here in a despondent puddle, nursing the many wrongs against me until I reach full black-fire spitting flippoutitude. Or. I can return to the library, sessy as hell, drink until I can't feel my face, and wait for Kanaya to pick me up for our pale date. I think she said to meet her in the library. Pretty sure. I'm totally not going there just because there's alcohol, and I'd like to not remember my name. That isn't a thing.

As I awkwardly totter back to the library, head pounding with both a mini-hangover and the screaming whirlwind of hurt unleashed by so many different factors on this most wondrous of days, I swear I hear something shuffling in the vents, tracking my progress. While tempting to shoot magic up there to shoo my vigilant shadow, somehow the very thought of it sends icy-hot picks of fire through my skull. Screw that. I might just hate everything with the passion of a pulsar morphing into a black hole, but the energy just isn't there. No well to tap, no reserve keg. Just empty. Pffft. Like my sooouuulll. Maybe I'm not as sober as I thought.

Feeling brittle as plastic left out overnight in freezing weather, I breach the library door with trepidation. Just Dave. Muttering to himself. Excellent. And no pesky air-vents. Even better. Wasting no time, I stumble and shuffle my way back to the fermentation station, topping off my flask and pouring the rest into a martini glass. Might as well not break family tradition. Gog I hate myself. Focus on not focusing. Tits on Christmas that sounds like a koan. Focus on not focusing...clear your miiiinnnddd. Pffhahaha.

Plopping down on the nearest stool, I sip in the relative silence of the meteor, contemplating nothing and everything. Dave wants apple juice. How does one create an apple? It's like trying to create a symbol, I mean, Prince did it, and we do it every time we write, but that's different. How does one create something that is more or less a structural constant in the universe? One cannot mix colors and create red. Nor can they combine universal archetypes to create an indivisible symbol. It just doesn't happen. But then...oh fuck philosophy. *Slurp *

The lightning burn begins to fade, morphing to a pleasant tingle as the force of the buzz slowly transmogrifies itself into full-blown drunken stupor. I'm all about using the ten dollar words today. The slow realization that I sat at the same table Dave is working on his bizarre rap lyrics laps against my ears with a siren song of 'kick it, Barack.' What. I don't even. Just. Ugh. *SlUUURRRRPPPP*

Eventually, Dave complains petulantly about the volume of my slurpage, "Dammit, Rose don't drink so loud, it's messing up my raps! I can actually hear your sips through my headphones."

Taking another annoying drag, I tease back, "Yea, well, I can hear your rasps, raps, through your whipseres, *whipspers, *whip...zers." _Pay attention to meeee_. Hic. Oh, wow. It's really kicking in now. The world tilts amiably on it's axis.

Furrowing his brow, Dave looks up from his computer, evaluating my current state. "Oh my god. You are so fucking hammered. How strong did you even make that stuff?" _What the fuck are you doing, and what's wrong?_

Blabbing mindlessly more than feeling the need to explain myself, I reply (with no small amount of slurring,) "Iss, prehhtay strong I geush? Whups. Guesh? *Guesss. Eheh." _I'm not in the best of moods, brother_.

Nodding, he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a pinch. "Pretty strong? Rose you just bootlegged some fucking rubbing alcohol." _What's wrong with this picture, and why are you drunk in it_?

Play it off, LaLonde. Thinking is the exact opposite of what you want to do right now. Let the lightning do it's magic. Sluuurrrrppp. "Pshf... Overaeact much? I'm yam completally in command of my faculities." Talking is so. hard. right now. Why.

He looks unimpressed with my verbal barrage. "Faculity isn't a word, check mate. This kinda strikes me as a sort of misappropriation of alchemy. Like, fucking with mystical technology only to whip up some moonshine just seems...I dunno man. Tell me you at least alchemized a bathtub to make this shit in. At least that would be hilarious." _You're really freaking me out right now. What the hell, LaLonde_.

His words are revelation in my intoxicated state, "Iii, Omg, you're right, I messed a golden opportunity for a puricularly humorush approach to this endeavor..." I plaster on a smile to hide everything else. _Don't poke at the holes in the armor, bro_.

He doesn't, cocking an eyebrow, _I know you're avoiding something. I'll play along for now_. "And where the FUCK is my apple juice, Rose? Gotta say, you really let me down on the aj front." There's a teasing quirk of a smile perched on his face. _This work as distraction_?

Giving a subtle nod, I do my best for excuses. "I tried! I tried making it...Is was HARD, Dave." Okay. That might be a fib. I down another mini-shot of the meteor's finest, grimacing as it turns my insides to charred flesh.

He knows I'm lying. Damn. He knows there's something *really* wrong, putting down his pen to stare at me. Double damn. In a chastising tone, "Bullshit it was hard. What's so hard about apple juice, it's like, the most basic goddamn juice. Like the square one of juice." Dave holds his hands open, palm up, in wordless accusation. _Not real thrilled you spent your time drinking instead of thinking there, sis_.

Oh man, you just opened up the motherfucking (goddammit) flood gates on the issue, brother mine. I spout off something good on the difficulties of creating a symbol, a basic tenet of the universe, from nothing. Even when I challenge him to come up with source material to create an apple, he just gives me a bewildered 'uh.' Guess I'm on the drunk philosophy stage now. Awesome. I fill up another glass with meteor hooch. And keep firing off about how 'symbols hold all the power.' I am really drunk. Awesome.

Dave's eyebrows threaten to recede into his hairline before he finally cuts me off. "Well, shit. Looks like I wandered into a really weird, uncharted side of town tonight. It's called the drunk Rose district. And I am scared out of my fucking mind." He fidgets in his chair, cocking his head at me. _What the fuck happened to you? This isn't cool, man_.

I giggle and hold out a mug, "For a guay whos's supposedly, an I quote, 'so cool,' You relly are almost comically up tight." Oh fuck how is he going to react to Terezi. Ofuck. Time to make it better. "Here, why don't you have some-"

He pushes it away, warning in his eyes. "No." His glare gives the distinct impression of: _This isn't funny anymore_.

Persisting, because the alcohol tells me to, "What a prune. *Prude." hic. I'm kind of an asshole drunk. Lovely.

Dave takes the container from my hand, gently placing it out of reach, teasing as he does, "I told you I don't want any of your experimental fucking spacewizard booze. I'd rather not go blind." Y_ou're going to hurt yourself if you don't knock this off._ "Then Terezi will have to teach me how to lick shit to see. Is that what you want? Do you want me licking everything in sight?! Like, oh hey mayor, SLURP, oh fuck! You're not the mayor, you're my goddamn sister!"

I chuckle bitterly. _Thank you for trying to lighten the mood_.

The laugh doesn't quite have the calming effect I thought it would. He's gone full on concerned brother, pushing his glasses down to look me over. _LaLonde. Really_? "Oh my god. You laughed way too hard at that. It wasn't anywhere close to funny." He swipes a hand at my drink, and I only barely keep it from his reach. "I think you've had enough." He is not amused, leaning forward with a grimace. _Playtime's over, sister_. I sip and attempt to meet his seething stare.

And boy is it. With a sneer, he growls, "Good lord. I still don't know why you were so bent on making this liquor. I thought you weren't really that down with the drinkin. You never liked it when your mom drank. What happened to that?" His eyes are dark red and challenging, daring me to correct him.

I snap my mouth shut for a split second and frown. _Low blow, brother_.

He shrugs, a stubborn set to his jaw. _I ain't pulling punches, princess_.

Snappy comebacks aren't happening right now. My brain is more than a little addled. I opt for honesty. (Because there really wasn't anything else I could say.) "Meh... Sheh was a lonelay single mom. I forgafe her."

He clears his throat and looks away. _Wow. There is so much wrong with this conversation if you can't be a snarky broad. You're a fucking mess_. "Ok. So why. Why tonight do you just decide to get completely wasted before you, like..." Realization dawns on him, _holy shit, LaLonde_! "Are you nervous about your date with Kanaya, is that it?"

The way he says it makes me uncomfortable. "I's a date?" _I didn't think so. Why does it have to be a date_? The seat I'm sitting in suddenly feels warm.

He scoffs, "Uh, Yes."

Parry! Parry for your life! "Howww do yoi figure, It 'sa date." _No it isn't no it isn't no it isn't_.

Dave openly rolls his eyes, a rare gesture, _Ain't having your shit today, sister_. "Rose. You are wearing a friggin prom dress. And nervously drinking your ass off. While you are waiting for Kanaya to arrive. For a goddamn DATE."

Shit. No. Bad LaLonde. "Can't a girl jush look her best once in awhile?" Nope, that is definitely a blush and not a lush's warming of the cheeks. Fuck.

My brother gives me his best impression of his Bro's impassive face. _Still don't believe you_. "This is infuriating. Why do you even bother with this stupid charade? You could be at like, a drive in movie making out with each other. All exchanging class rings while giving birth to each other's fucking children. And you would still be all coy like IS IT A DATE OR ISNT IT? HMMMM WHO CAN REALLY SAY FOR SURE?"

Huh. Touchy. "Ok... Mebey, I took a liltle sip totake the edge off?" Because I don't want to tell her everything that's going on in my head right now? Because I think she'll run for the hills if she knew? Or kill Gamzee? But he seems awful on edge. Does he know? I give him a raised brow, _You okay_?

He shrugs with a huff. _Ain't answering that eyebrow right now. Back off. More worried about you_. "Yeah. That turned out to be one hell of a sip." Dave gestures with a flick of a wrist, toying with his pen, " Maybe you should just reschedule." _Being that drunk on a date is all sorts of bad, Rose. Makes a shit-ton of stupid happen_.

Panic grips me at the thought of losing my liquid courage. Hell no. No to the infinite power. I try for smooth, "It's cool I'm, cool." Dave continues the trend of 'not impressed.' with a distinct flair. Try again. "Really!" He should have neon signs to display his distrust in my current emotional state.

Opting to flash step and finally free the mug from my fingers, he replies evenly, "I'm just not sure you're gonna make the best impression like this." He puts a protective arm around my shoulders, urging me to stand, _let me help, dumbass_, "Come on, let's just find you a suitably soft pile of objects to sleep in before she-" He freezes, glancing over my shoulder with dismay. "Aw shit." I hum question, enjoying the tickling sensation it causes against my lips maybe a little too much. He mutters with a defeated air, "She's here." He glares down at me, _This isn't over_.

I perk up like a puppy waiting to be coddled. Hooray for sessy moirails! Turning with a giddy spin towards my favorite source of light with a grin plastered (ha) on my face.

* * *

Note: Thanks Buttmage, I always try really hard to keep things kinda cannon, and give Dave and Rose the right amount of brotherly/sisterly lub! TY!

Note: Thanks, Lovely Anon! I'm really glad you enjoyed!

Note: Thanks, Vampkimi! I totally agree with Gam/Ter in any other situation But this story, really. It's an interesting, if not disastrous, pairing. As for the updating...there's just been a lot of stuff on my end that's been holding me up some, is all. Eh. Life. bleh.

Note: Thanks Guest! And Rose truly is wonderful. It's why I lub her.

Note: Thanks Nectardishiadafimo! Bacon is very important. B|

Note: Thanks Chairisse! I think she's both, tbh. Dark humor does that to people. =0) And I know, I know, it's just stuff. That does things.

Note: Thanks Ms. Shaye! You always say the most wonderful things! eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!


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